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;'RANCis Bacon and his Secret Society. 



FRANCIS BACON AND 
"'^SECRET SOCIETY. 



An Attempt to Collect and Unite the Lost Links 
OF A Long and Strong Chain. 



By Mrs. Henry Pott. 



"Commend it, or amend it." 



j':^ )^,w-7ui^ 



Chicago: 

Francis J. Schulte & Company. 

1891. 






"go. litel booke, godde send thee good passage, 
And specialie lette this be thy praier, 
Unto them alle that thee wil rede or heare: 
Wher thou art wrong, after their help to calle 
Thee to corecte in anie parte atte alle." 

— Chancer. 



Copyright, 1891, by Francis J. Schulte. 



To THE 

"Sons of the Morning," 

J" dedicate this Book, 
Confident that they tvill not disappoint the prophetic hope of 

FRANCIS BACON 

that, in the " New Birth of Time," his " Filii Scientiarum" 

tvould accomplish his tvork, and " hand 

down the Lamp " to the Next Ages. 



CONTENTS. 

Page. 

CHAPTER I. 

Intkoductort _-- 9 

CHAPTER IL 
Francis Bacon: Some doubts connected with his 
personal history, and actual works and aims 25 

CHAPTER III. 

Francis Bacon : A mystery surrounds his private 

LIFE AND character 40 

CHAPTER IV. 

Francis Bacon : An outline of his life and aims 88 

CHAPTER V. 

Playwright and poet-philosopher - - - - 117 

CHAPTER VI. 

Deficiencies of learning in the times of Eliza- 
beth AND James I. ------- 158 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Rosicrucians : Their rules, aims, and method 

OF working -------- 197 

CHAPTER VIII. 
The vital spirits of nature 230 

CHAPTER IX. 
Masonry 256 

CHAPTER X. 
Paper- marks used until the time of Sir Nicholas 

Bacon - - - 298 

CHAPTER XI. 
Paper-marks in and after the time of Francis 

Bacon - - 335 

Plates - 375 

List of paper-marks ------- 403 



Feaegis Bagoi aid his Secret Society. 



CHAPTER I. 

INTRODUCTOET. 



" Read, not to contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for granted, 
nor to find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider." 

THE object with which this book has been written is to invite 
attention and help in clearing some obscurities, and answer- 
ing some difficult questions, which have lately presented them- 
selves, in the course of a close investigation into the works and 
aims of Francis Bacon and his friends. 

Although, for the sake of brevity, propositions are here stated 
rather than argued, it must not be thought that such statements 
are dogmatic, or that the conclusions drawn by the writer are 
intended to be forced upon others. 

So far as is possible, facts have been distinguished from con- 
jectures, suggestions, or inferences. Nevertheless, since, to most 
minds, it is helpful to learn what general conclusions have re- 
sulted from certain disconnected items of evidence, such con- 
clusions as have been reached are frankly offered, and will 
readily be withdrawn, if proof or stronger evidence should be 
forthcoming on the contrary side. 

Let those who peruse these pages regard them only as the 
faint rays of a lamp of inquiry, which may guide others, stronger 
and more capable, to come forward and work, till this mine of 
truth shall be thoroughly explored, and its treasures brought to 
the surface. 

{91 



10 FRANCIS BACOK 

The chain of argument which has been formed is of the fol- 
lowing kind: 

1. There is a mystery about the life, aims, and actual work of 
Francis Bacon. Ben Jonson (whose accuracy is never ques- 
tioned) acknowledges this in his verses to Bacon: 

"Thou stand'st as though a mystery thou didst." 

And Jonson's testimony to Bacon's immense and poetic genius, 
" filling up all numbers," etc., would be unintelligible if we were 
to maintain that all is known which could be known about Bacon 
and his works. 

The more we study these, the more we weigh his utterances, 
his fragmentary papers, his letters, his ambiguous or enigmatic 
notes, his wills, and the dedications and prefaces to many of his 
acknowledged or suspected works, — the more closely we com- 
pare the opinions expressed on any of these subjects, so much 
the more clearly do we perceive the mystery, the apparent con- 
tradictions which exist in his life and writings, and which em- 
broil and confuse the statements of his innumerable critics and 
biographers. The apparent " contraries of good and evil " are, 
in Bacon's case, so many and so strong, that there is hardly an 
opinion expressed concerning him by one " great authority" 
which is not absolutely contradicted by another equally great. 

2. In spite of Bacon's distinct and repeated statements as 
to the deep and prevailing darkness, the Ignorant grossness of 
his own era; — in spite of his catalogue of the ** deficiencies" of 
learning, deficiencies which, commencing with lack of words, 
extend through some forty distinct departments of learning ; 
and not only to " knowledges," but to everything requisite to 
form a fine and polished style, or to express noble thoughts : — 
in spite of all this, we are taught to believe in an outburst of 
literary genius and of ''giant minds," simultaneously all over 
the world, during the age in which he lived. Yet we are com- 
pelled to confess that Bacon's statements have never been chal- 
lenged or refuted. 

Philology shows a marvellous correspondence in the English 
literature of the Elizabethan and Jacobean period. True, some 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 11 

works are superior to others, as are the first efforts of a clever 
boy to the compositions of his mature manhood — still, a very 
decided resemblance in thought, opinion, knowledge, and dic- 
tion is perceptible, when the works of the time are exhaustively 
compared. 

This likeness extends even to foreign works, especially when 
they are divested of their Latin, French, German, Italian, or 
Spanish mantles, and appear as " translations" in very Baconian 
diction. In many cases the translations appear to be the orig- 
inals. 

3. It is manifestly impossible that any one man, however 
gigantic his power, could have performed, single-handed, all 
that we believe to have been done and written by Francis Bacon. 
But many entries in his private notes, many hints in his let- 
ters and acknowledged works, indicate his faith in the efficacy 
of united efforts, and that, besides the mystery which surrounded 
himself, there was also a mystery concerning many of his near- 
est relations and friends, who seemed to have worked for the 
same ends as he did, and perfectly to have understood the am- 
biguous language in which he expressed himself. Secret socie- 
ties were common in the Middle Ages, and Bacon, we believe, 
was the centre of a secret league for the advancement of learn- 
ing. This revival of learning was the " New Birth of Time" — 
the " Renaissance." 

4. Examination into the history of the secret societies of the 
Middle Ages shows the Rosicruciau fraternity as the one of all 
others which would have been best fitted to promote Bacon's 
lofty aims; its very constitution and mode of procedure seeming 
to be the result of his own scheme or " method." 

5. It further appears that no sharply defined line could be 
drawn between the method and objects of the Rosicrucians and 
those of the Freemasons; and that, in fact, although the pro- 
phetic imagination of Bacon carried him into the highest flights 
of i)oetic and religious aspiration, and into the sublimest regions 
whither the Rosicruciau brethren strove to follow him, yet he was 
observant and practical enough to see that there were things in 
heaven and earth unheard of in ordinary philosophy ; that only 



12 FRANCIS BACON 

a few in his own times would be able to comprehend them, and 
that, even in the ages to come, such things must be " caviare to 
the general, " and quite beyond the reaches of their souls. 

Consequently, whoso would set about a " universal reforma- 
tion of the whole wide world, " such as the Rosicrucians dreamed 
of, must begin in a very humble way, and on the low level, but 
the very broad basis, which is the first stage or platform of Free- 
masonry, 

6. A secret society implies and involves secret means of com- 
munication and mutual recognition — ciphers or secret writing, 
Mr, Donnelly's great discovery of cipher in the Shakespeare Folio 
of 1623 has been the cause of much investigation, not only into 
the typography of old books, but also into the art of cryptog- 
raphy, which, in and after Bacon's time, forms an important 
element of education in the higher schools of learning, especially 
in the seminaries and Jesuits' colleges on the Continent. " Every 
prince has his cipher, " i It is certain that, in those dark and 
dangerous days, no correspondenceof importance was conducted 
without the use of some secret writing or cipher. 

So numerous are the works on cryptography published in the 
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, that they form a small bib- 
liography of themselves. The most important of these is a large 
octavo volume, published with a pseudonym (and under the aus- 
pices of the Duke of Brunswick, who is said to have patronized 
Shakespeare and his company) at Luneberg in 1623 (1624 New 
Style) — in the same year, namely, as that of the publication of 
Bacon's DeAugmentis, in which his own cipher is described, and 
of the Shakespeare Folio, in which Mr. Donnelly has found a 
cipher narrative, 

7. Inquiry as to cipher systems and their wide-spread use, 
and immensely varied forms, led to the observation that the use 
of stenography, or short-hand, though used as a method of" swift" 
writing, is, in some of the old books, found to be intimately con- 
nected with cryptography. The results of this research, so far 
as it goes, tend to show Bacon again as the introducer and great 

1 Promus. 



AND HIS SEGBET SOCIETY. 13 

encourager of this short-hand cipher. It even appears probable 
that he taught it to his young assistants and secretaries and 
that by this means a great deal of his wonderful conversation, 
and the contents of many small treatises, tracts, sermons, etc, 
were taken from his lips, such discourses being at leisure written 
It, sometimes revised by himself, and published at various 
places and under various names, when the opportunity arose or 
when the time seemed ripe. ^.hoatvnn 

8 With regard to the peculiar typography and the typo- 
graphical errors " which were tabulated from the Shakespeare 
Folio of 1623. it is found that the same peculiarities, the same 
'' errors " the same variations in type, exist throughout the 
whole circle of Baconian (or - Rosicrucian " ) pubhcations of a 
certain period. Such errors and peculiarities predominate m 
the most important works, especially in the head-lines, prefaces, 
indexes, tables of contents; and " accidents " in printing, when 
very frequent in such places, or in the pagination of the book 
are, as a rule, not to be found in the text of the book itself 
Usually one edition only contains these - errors and accidents; 
often this is the " second edition, carefully revised and aug- 
mented " Such books have every condition requisite for cipher. 

9 In books where there are other distinct signs of Bacoman 
origin, the wood-cuts are found to have a strange connection 
and affinity. The collation of a large number of tracmgs and 
photographs from a certain class of books reveals a complete 

.chain- work, linking one book to another. This chain invari- 
ably leads up to Francis Bacon and his friends, as the authors, 
" producers, " or patrons of those works. 

10 The same system of mutual connection is found to be 
kept up by «' water-marks," or paper-marks, in these same 
books. These paper-marks are extremely numerous and vary 
very much. From three to twenty-four different patterns have 
been found in one volume. 

11. The tooling of the binding forms another chain of con- 
nection amongst these books. 

12 Further examination discloses other secret marks, chiefly 
made, we think, to take the place of paper-marks, and inserted 



14 FRANCIS BACON 

during the last stage of perfecting tlie book. They tally with 
each other, and also form a complete chain of evidence as to 
the workings of a secret society. Say that they are printers' 
marks ; yet they are secret marks produced with cunning, skill, 
and forethought, and not without expense as well as trouble. 

13. All these secret signs are traceable, variously modi fled, 
and ingeniously introduced to suit the exigencies of modern 
printing and publishing, from the time of Bacon to the present 
day. The chain of connection seems to be complete. Inquiries 
amongst notable printing-firms and printers, and researches into 
books, supposed authorities on the subject, fail to produce defi- 
nite information ; but the facts are not denied nor these statements 
refuted. The impossibility of getting a straightforward answer 
to the questions, "Are these things true?" or ''Are these 
things untrue? " confirms the long-growing conviction that the 
same system which was set going in the time of Bacon is at the 
present time in full working order ; and that the Freemasons 
form the Arts and Crafts, the later- established and lower degrees 
of the society which, at the eighteenth degree, rises into the 
literary and religious society of "Rose Croix," or the ^^ Bosi- 
crucians, " as they were called by Andreas. 

14. The Rosicrucians and the Freemasons speak in their books 
of the necessity for a " universal language. " This language is to 
be partly by signs, but also largely by symbols or emblems. It 
is the language of the " Renaissance." A collation of passages 
shows that all the metaphors, similes, symbols, and emblems of 
the Rosicrucians and Masons, and of all the works which we 
connect with them, are included in the works of Bacon. The 
greater contains the less, and the language is his. No one has 
since improved upon it, although many have paraphrased and 
diluted his words, as well as his original thoughts. 

15. Bacon's most intimate friends, relations, and correspond- 
ents seem to have been all either Rosicrucians, Freemasons, or 
Illuminati, as, in Italy and parts of Germany, they were some- 
times called. Their names continually appear in connection 
with the works produced under the auspices of these societies ; 
their portraits often include the recognized marks of distinction; 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 15 

their very graves comply with the rules of the section of the 
society to which they belonged. 

16. It is not concluded, from the evidence which has been 
collected, that Bacon originated secret societies, or that there 
were no religious fraternities or trade guilds, before his time, 
possessing secrets which they kept for mutual help and pro- 
tection. 

On the contrary, all evidence goes to show that stick institu- 
tions did exist, in a rude and inefficient condition; that in all 
probability Sir Nicholas Bacon and others had conceived a 
thought of attempting to consolidate or erect some such society, 
for the purpose of reviving learning, and of promoting unity in 
religion. But it remained for the genius, energy, and untiring 
devotion of Francis Bacon to accomplish these things, and he 
seems to have been pecuharly educated for the purpose. 

Throwing the whole weight of his gigantic intellect and the 
enthusiasm of " that great heart of his " i into the work of 
methodising and perfecting previous weak and disjointed 
schemes, he built up, step by step, stone by stone, the great 
fabric of learning, the " Solomon's House " which his descend- 
ants have kept in repair, and to which the " future ages " have 
made additions in some departments. 

It was Bacon who designed the exquisite machinery or 
" engine " which still exists for the reception, arrangement, 
digestion, and wide-spread distribution of knowledge. It was 
he who, finding the new truth in vain trying to struggle up in a 
thankless soil, and the learning of the ancients smothered and 
buried in the dust of oblivion, set himself the task of raking and 
digging up and setting it forth again, polished and glorified 
with all the lustre of his radiant mind. The organisation or 
" method of transmission " which he established was such as to 
ensure that never again, so long as the world endured, should 
the lamp of tradition, the light of truth, be darkened or extin- 
guished ; but that, continually trimmed and replenished with 
the oil of learning, it should be kept ahght, a little candle in a 

1 Pr. Riiwlpv's Life of Bacon. 



16 FRANCIS BACON 

dark place, or a beacon set ou a hill, burnlDg with undimmed 
and perpetual brightness. 

Many questions arise in the course of the inquiries with which 
the following pages are concerued — doubts and knotty points 
which cannot yet be definitely settled, but which must be con- 
sidered open questions, fair subjects for discussion and further 
research. Present knowledge is not equal to the task of solving 
many such enigmas, and doubtless these will for a while con- 
tinue to obtrude themselves. But we say ^^ present knowledge," 
speaking in regard to the world and readers in general. There 
is little room for doubt that the difficulties and obstacles which 
we have met with, and the obscurity which enshrouds so much 
of the history of Bacon and his friends, are neither dark nor 
difficult to a certain clique of learned men, still representing the 
brethren of the Rosie Cross. As to the lower degrees of Mason- 
ry, the Arts and Crafts (or the mysteries of handiworks), there 
are, doubtless, a limited number of personages, presiding over 
some of the Freemason lodges, to whom all these details are 
perfectly well understood. 

It is by no means so sure that even the high initiates in any 
branch of the society are informed of all or of the same particu- 
lars. Probably the supreme head, or Imperator, and two or 
three of his subordinates, are acquainted with the whole history 
of the society, and with every detail of its method and present 
work. But with regard to the lower orders of the fraternity, it 
does not appear, from the evidence we have collected, that they 
possess any true knowledge or idea of their origin. Perhaps 
they believe the fictitious histories which we shall presently have 
occasion to glance at. But, at all events, so far as observation 
and inquiry have enabled us to ascertain, every craft or mechanical 
art, connected with Freemasonry, still keeps up the old secret 
signs, which, though now perhaps useless anachronisms, were, 
at the time of their invention and institution^ excellent and 
ready means for the transmissicm of information and mutual 
intelligence, not only from man to man, in a living generation, 
but from man to posterity, and to " the future ages. " 

Masons mark the stones they chisel with marks which they do 



AND ms SECitEf SOCIETY. 17 

not understand; but the architect who decorates his building, 
externally and internally, with the symbolic ornamentation of 
the Renaissance, is a Freemason of higher rauk, and we do not 
suppose, from the specimens which we see of recent workman- 
ship, that he, like the mechanics in his employ, works or designs 
in mere " base imitation " of his predecessors. The very nature, 
position, or circumstances of the buildings thus decorated pro- 
hibit the belief that their ornaments are casually or aimlessly 
applied. 

In like manner, craftsmen, employed in the arts and trades of 
paper-making, printing, engraving, and book-binding, continue 
to reproduce, under certain circumstances, not only the old secret 
marks, but the old hieroglyphic or symbohc pictures, modified to 
suit modern requirements. 

Here, again, it is plain that the simple craftsman is the mere 
tool, obediently performing, he knows not precisely what, or 
wherefore. But who orders and guides that workman? Who 
dictates the style of the peculiar designs which we see repeating 
the same story, handing down the same lamp of tradition which 
was hghted in the days of Queen EUzabeth? Whosoever he 
may be who dictates or designs, he is not, like the workman, 
ignorant of the what or the wherefore. When you meet with 
him and question him, he will not tell you that he *' does not 
hnow;^' he will reply that he ^'cannot telV^ To this is often 
added some suggestion as to the improbability of such a method 
being now in existence : "7s it likely that this system should 
continue? Of what use could it be at the present time? " To 
the latter question we can only reply that, if this system was 
established in connection with a society bound by repeated vows 
of secresy and constancy to continue it from one generation to 
another, we cannot see at what point they could ever break it 
off, except by discovery. It is precisely because of its apparent 
inutility in the present day, and because it seems that such 
secresy now hinders and confounds knowledge (without any 
compensating advantages), that we desire to aid in lifting that 
curtain which Bacon intended should be one day raised; and 
which we have good reason for knowing that many of his 



18 FRANCIS BACON 

followers desire to see withdrawn, though they may not move 
one finger for the purpose. 

At the present hour it does indeed appear as if such marks 
and symbols were practically useless — anachronisms, in free 
England at least. Yet neither can we truly say that they are 
totally valueless, seeing that, little as we understand their pur- 
port, we have been able to use them as guides through a strange 
and unmapped region. 

The very. nature of the case makes it impossible to be accu- 
rate in describing these occult signs. Many of them, doubtless, 
are mere blinds, the puzzling dust of which we shall read, cast 
in our eyes with intent to deceive and mislead us. This is right, 
and as it should be ; for it would be but a poor secret which 
could easily be discovered; and from Bacon, and in anything 
which he devised, we should expect the utmost ingenuity and 
subtlety combined with the greatest power and the wisest fore- 
thought; — a scheme planned by Prospero, with mischievous 
improvements by Puck, and carried out by him in conjunction 
with Ariel. 

We are armed and well prepared for a volley of perhaps good- 
natured abuse and derision from those, on the one hand, who 
wish to discourage others from following up the lines of research 
which are here indicated; on the other hand, from that very 
numerous class which so often attracted Bacon's notice — those, 
namely, who, never having studied a subject, are the more posi- 
tive, either that it is a delusion, or that it is not worthy of study. 
His remarks on such critics are so satisfactory and exhaustive, 
that this prqspect in no way troubles us. 

There is yet a third class which has been before us throughout 
the process of collecting the particulars included in the following 
pages — students not too easily satisfied, but willing to take 
some personal trouble to reach the bottom of things, and to get 
at the truth. To these we need not say, as to the former class 
of readers: 

"Before you judge, be pleased to understand." 

But we do entreat that, accepting nothing at second-hand, 
taking nothing for granted, they will contribute some personal 



AND HIS SECBET SOCIETY. 19 

help in testing, disproving, or confirming tlie statements and 
suggestions made in this booli, for, the sooner error is confuted 
and truth established, the better for all. 

If these statements be incorrect, those especially connected tvitli 
trades and crafts, it must be easy for those at the head of great 
houses connected with such crafts plainly and unreservedly to 
confute them. Men are not usually found to be backward in 
contradicting other men's assertions when they consider their 
own knowledge superior. And to the simple question, " Am I 
wrong f " the answer " Yes" would be at once conclusive and 
satisfactory, if delivered by a competent authority and an 
honorable man. 

Such an answer has hitherto been withheld, and it cannot be 
thought unreasonable if for the present we continue in the faith 
that the statements and theories here set forth are approximately 
correct. When those who have it in their power absolutely to 
confirm or refute our observations will do neither the one nor the 
other; when published books are found invariably to stop short 
at the point where full information is required, and which must 
be in the possession of those who, having written up to that 
point, know so well where to stop and what to omit, then we are 
assured that the questions remain unanswered, the books incom- 
plete, because those who have in their possession the informa- 
tion which we need are bound by vows to withhold it. In Free- 
masons' language, they '■^cannot tell" — an expression which 
recurs with remarkable frequency in correspondence on these 
subjects, and which is judiciously or graciously varied and para- 
phrased*: " I regret to be unable to give you the information you 
seek " — " I am sorry that I can tell you nothing which will assist 
your researches" — "These inquiries are most interesting — I 
wish it were in my power to help you, " etc. 

In vain have we endeavored to extract the answer, " I do not 
know. " Such a phrase does not seem to exist amongst the for- 
mulae of Freemason or Rosicrucian language. 

It has been our effort, throughout this work, to keep each 
subject distinct from every other; at the same time showing 
how all are inseparably linked and bound together; how every 



20 FMANCIS BACON- 

clue pursued in this argument leads to the same point; bow all 
lines converge to the centre. 

In attempting this, all ei3brt at a pleasing composition in our 
book has had to be renounced, for it is better to be understood 
than applauded; and frequent repetitious are needful in order 
to spare the reader from puzzling and from the worry of per- 
petual foot-notes or references. He may often be disappointed 
at the slight and sketchy treatment which very interesting and 
important matters have received. But since the present object 
It to rouse inquiry, rather than to clinch any argument, or to 
silence objectors, it seems the wisest plan first to state and sug- 
gest, not stopping at every turn in order to prove each statement. 

This appears to be especiallydesirable since it is notorious that, 
in such matters as are here brought forward, judgment will and 
must be delivered according to each man's light and knowledge. 
Those who know most will understand most, inquire most, and 
be the most interested and sympathetic. But we cannot " go 
beyond Aristotle in the light of Aristotle. " 

And surely our sympathies should rather be with those " who 
seek to make doubtful things certain" than with those others 
" who labor to make certain things doubtful." If so, let us be- 
ware of forming opinions positive and stereotyped upon matters 
of which we have but little knowledge, and which are only now 
beginning to be duly weighed and sifted. It is in vain to assume 
a knowledge if we have it not; and judgments delivered under 
the wig of Folly are sure to be soon reversed. Bacon underwent 
such mock trials in his own life-time, and he has told us how 
lightly he regarded them. "We decline," he says, "to be 
judged by a tribunal which is itself upon its trial." 

To the end that this investigation may be the more easily and 
swiftly performed, we append a few notes, but for brevity's salve 
(and to avoid the deterring appearance of erudition which, to 
some minds, is produced by an array of quotations and refer- 
ences) these have been curtailed to a minimum. They will not 
satisfy the real lover of truth, but such a one will pursue the 
subject for himself, and dig to the very roots of matters which 
can be here merely noted or pointed out. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 21 

Before concluding these preliminary remarks, we would ask 
leave to say a few words respecting an idea which has lately 
become the fashion. This idea finds expression in the statement 
that it is impossible to credit the Baconian theories because they 
are contraru to common sense. 

Common sense, we are assured, tells, or should tell us, that the 
notion is absurd that a great secret society exists in the present 
day ; that there are ciphers introduced into many Baconian 
books ; that Bacon wrote all that philology declares him to have 
written; or that he inaugurated the vast amount of works of all. 
kinds which evidence seems to show that he did inaugurate. On 
the whole no one with any common sense can suppose that things 
are true which the speaker (whose common sense is always 
excellent) does not understand. 

Such remarks, from those who have never studied the matter 
in question, invariably suggest the inquiry, — What is this 
omniscient common sense, which is supposed capable of deciding 
without effort, and by some mysterious short cut, many hard and 
knotty points which have cost the investigator so much pains 
and labor? 

Surely common sense is not, as many seem to imagine, a kind 
of intuitive genius, or even a penetrative insight. Eather it 
should be defined as the power of reasoning upon experience. 

For example, suppose a man never to have seen or heard of 
an Qgg', could any amount of sense, common or uncommon, lead 
him to expect that some day the shell would be cracked from 
within, and that a living ball of fluff and feathers would step 
forth? Yet, having seen one such Qgg, and the chicken wliich 
issued from it, the man would, on finding another egg, expect a 
like result. If, after watching a hen roost for many days or 
weeks, seeing the same phenomenon frequently repeated, he 
still remains doubtful as to what might come out of an Qgg, think- 
ing it equally probable that, instead of a chicken, a mouse, a 
frog, or a swarm of bees might appear, we should consider him 
a fool, entirely without common sense, incapable of reasoning 
by analogy or experience. And so with all cases in which com- 
mon sense is exercised. 



22 FBANCIS BACON 

Now, it is plain that things which are entirely new to us, 
things of which we have never had any previous experience, are 
not matters upon which we can successfully decide by common 
sense. On the contrary, we must use some sense out of the com- 
mon if we would attain to the knowledge and comprehension of 
totally new sciences or branches of learning; and to learn new 
things, as Shakespeare tells us, is the end of study : 

Biron. What is the end of study ? Let me know. 

Long. Why, that to know which else wo should not know. 

Biron. Things hid and harr'd, you hiow, frorn common sense. 

King. Aye, that is study's glorious recompense. 

Those who, without any experience in the questions involved, 
pronounce that Bacon could not have written Shakespeare, or 
that there is no cipher in the Plays, or that Bacon did not found 
Freemasonry and Rosicrucianism, or that, although the former 
society exists, the latter does not, are going in direct opposition 
to common sense, or to reason based upon experience. 

For experience has shown that the philology, science, ethics, 
and many other particulars in the Plays prove them, by inter- 
nal evidence,tobetheproductsofBacon'sheart, brain, andhaud; 
and hundreds of other pieces 'of evidence, connected with the 
circumstances of their publication, confirm the doctrines which 
are founded upon internal evidence. The evidence is precisely 
of the same kind as that which has been held good in examining 
the claims of many authors to their accredited works; and the 
same rules of criticism which are employed in one case should 
hold good in another, where the same similarities are seen in 
infinitely greater numbers. 

From the Promus i we gather the elements of a new 
phraseology, newly coined words, turns of expression, met- 
aphors, proberbial sayings, and quotations from five or six 
languages; from the Natural History and the History of Life and 
Death, a mass of scientific facts, new and curious in the days 
when they were recorded and published. From the Novum 
Organum and the Advancement of Learning, a mass of new 

1 Bacon's prirate MS. notes, in the Harlcian collection, British Museum. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 23 

ideas, theories, aphorisms, and philosophical reflections. From 
the Wisdom of the Ancients, parables " new " and " deep," and 
mythological interpretations different from any previously 
offered. 

Now, when all these things are seen reflected in the poetry of 
Shakespeare and other supposed authors, in days when we have 
the authority of the great Verulam himself for pronouncing 
knowledge " deficient " in nearly every branch of polite learn- 
ing, common sense tells us that the author who wrote the notes, 
and the author who used them in his prose and poetry, was one 
and the same. 

Again, when we find Shakespeare writing in many different 
styles; when we find his styles so varied that his warmest 
admirers difter and wrangle over them, and assign bits of his 
plays first to one author, and then to another, calling some plays 
" spurious, " others " doubtful; " when we find some of his 
poetry very prosy, and some of his prose to be finest poetry; and 
then, when the same observations recur with Bacon's acknowl- 
edged works, Ben Jonson praising both authors in the same 
words, but saying that 5rtcow alone filled all numbers; when we 
find the analogies between the two groups of works made 
patent by thousands of extracts and passages, on all conceiv- 
able subjects, and notably by a harmony of about forty thousand 
metaphors and similes, common sense is forced to declare that 
here again the author is one and the same. 

When experience shows that Freemasonry exists, exercising 
the same functions, rules, and system as it did nearly three 
hundred years ago, reason tells us that what is a fact concern- 
ing the lower grades of a society is likely to be equally a fact 
concerning the upper grades of the^same society; and when we 
see the Freemasons exhibiting and proclaiming themselves, in 
their meetings, dresses, and ceremonials, much as they did at 
their first institution, we find it contrary to common sense to 
maintain that the retiring and silent Rosicrucians, whose rules 
from the first enforced concealment and silence, cannot now he in 
existence, because then are not seen or generally recognised. 

With regard to the use of ciphers, it is true that modern society 



24 FEANCIS BACON 

has little or no experience of their use; but siuce the art of cryp- 
tography constituted in Bacon's time an important part of a 
learned education, it is contrary to common sense to say that the 
introduction of ciphers into printed books is either impossible or 
improbable; or that, though the societies which used them may 
still exist, working on their original lines, yet it is absurd to sup- 
pose that they know of the ciphers or use them still. If the 
society exists, its ciphers exist also. 

There are some drawbacks to the delight of pursuing these 
many and various questions. One is the conviction which 
presses upon us, that all the information which we seek is per- 
fectly well known to certain living persons; that the particulars 
which, with painful slowness, we rake for and sift from the 
dust of time, from books whose titles are generally forgotten, 
from manuscripts whose very existence is generally unknown, 
are all formally recorded, or have been verbally transmitted to 
those certain few; so that, in the endeavors now made toward 
reaching absolute truth in these particulars, we are doing what 
Bacon would call actum agere — doing the deed done — a process 
always unsatisfactory, and one from which we seek to deliver 
others who may follow in our footsteps. 

It is, moreover, disheartening to know that this book must be, 
of its very nature, imperfect. It must go forth unfledged, 
*' flying, " as Bacon says, *' out of its feathers. " Hardly will it 
have flown, when the " dogs, " Bacon's cynics, and his critics, 
the " birds of prey," will be after it, and hunt it down, and peck 
it to pieces. Yet if, perchance, it may be fortunate enough to 
attract the attention of some dozen students in our great libra- 
ries, workers in any department of knowledge, this little work 
will have fulfilled its mission. Perhaps some fresh streams of 
information may flow in to assist the subsequent portions of this 
book. At all events, even common criticism, hostile though it 
may be, will, we trust, lend further aid to the clearing-up of 
errors or misapprehensions, and to the " finding out Truth, 
though she be hid indeed within the center." 



CHAPTER II. 

FRANCIS BACON: SOME DOUBTS CONNECTED WITH HIS PER- 
SONAL HISTORY, AND ACTUAL WORKS AND AIMS. 

" I have been induced to think that if there were a beam of knowledge de- 
rived from God upon any man in tJiese modei-n times, it was upon him." 

— Di: Rawley. 

IT is certain that, although much is known about Francis 
Bacon in some parts or phases of his chequered life, yet there 
is a great deal more which is obscure, or very inadequately 
treated of by his biographers. 

So little has, until recently, been generally thought about him, 
that the doubts and discrepancies, and even the blanks which 
are to be found in all the narratives which concern him, have 
usually passed unnoticed, or have been accepted as matters of 
course. Yet there are points which it would be well to inquire 
into. 

For instance, what was he doing or where was he travelling 
during certain unchronicled years? Why do we hear so little in 
modern books of that beloved brother Anthony, who was his 
" comfort," and his " second self " ? And where was Anthony 
when he died f Where was he buried? And why are no par- 
ticulars of his eventful life, his last illness, death, or burial, 
recorded in ordinary books ? 

Where is the correspondence which passed for years between 
the brothers ? Sixteen folio volumes at Lambeth inclose a large 
portion of Anthony's correspondence. Letters important, and 
apparently unimportant, have been carefully preserved, but 
amongst them hardly one from Francis. And where is any cor- 
respondence of the same kind either from or to him — letters, 
that is, full of cipher, and containing secret communications, 
information concerning persons and politics, such as Anthony 

(25) 



26 FRANCIS BACON 

was engaged in collecting for his especial use ? Tlie letters to 
Anthony are preserved. Where are those from him f Then, 
again, of his chief friends and confidants — why do his published 
letters and biographies pass over lightly, or entirely ignore, his 
intimate acquaintance with many remarkable menj as, for 
instance, with Michel de Montaigne, John Florio, Father Ful- 
gentius, and Pierre DuMoulin, with John Beaumont and Edward 
Alleyn, with Giordano Bruno, Theodore Beza and Ben Jonson? 
Or, turning to more general inquiries, how came there to be 
sucli an outburst of learning and wit in the immediate society of 
the very man who repeatedly pronounced learning and true liter- 
ary power to be deficient ? How was it that, although from the 
first moment when he began to publish all authors adopted his 
words, his expressions and his ideas; though they continually 
echoed, paraphrased, or curtailed his utterances, and set up his 
judgment as a standard, working, thenceforward, on his lines, 
his NAME was seldom mentioned, and that, even to this day, 
the tremendous debts owed to him by the whole civilized world are 
practically ignored? Seeing the prodigious difficulty which now 
meets any attempt to eradicate an old error, or to gain acceptance 
for anew idea, why, we would ask, did Bacon contrive so to impress, 
not only his new diction, but his new ideas, upon the literature 
and upon the very life of whole nations ? 

In the process of collecting material for a harmony between 
the scientific works of Bacon, Shakespeare, and others, it became 
apparent thatmany of Bacon's works, especially the fragmentary 
works, Valerius Terminus, Thema Cceli, the Histories of Dense 
and Bare, or Salt, Sulphur and Mercury, etc., still more notably 
the Sylva Sylvarum, the Ncio Atlantis, and the History of 
Life and Death (published together, after Bacon's death, by his 
secretary. Dr. Rawley), as well as the Praise of the Queen (for 
the publication of which Bacon left special instructions), ivere 
not that alone zvhieh they liretended to he. They profess to be 
works on science or history; they prove, when more closely 
examined and collated with the rest of Bacon's acknowledged 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 27 

works, to be parables, or figurative pieces, conveying a double 
meaning to tliose wlio had knowledge enougti to receive it. 

Tliese works (like the Shakespeare sonnets) are all more or less 
obscure and incomprehensible in aim or form. They are, 
apparently, full of allusions to other parts of his works, where 
similar expressions are applied to quite diflferent purposes. 
Sometimes they are to outward appearance fragmentary, imper- 
fect, manifestly inaccurate or incomplete, in matters with which 
Bacon was acquainted, yet permitted, nay, ordered, by him to be 
so published. 

It is well known that Bacon's great desire was to be clear, 
perspicuous, and easily understood. Obscurity in his writing 
was, therefore, not caused by disregard of the limited compre- 
hensions of his readers, or by inadvertence in the choice of words, 
for he was an absolute master of language and could write or 
speak in any style or to any pitch, high or low, which suited his 
subject. The obscurity, then, was, we are sure, intentional. 
He admits as much in many places, where he confesses that he 
finds it desirable " to keep some state " concerning himself and 
his works, and where he, over and over again, commends the 
use of reserve, secresy, ambiguous or parabolic language, of 
allegory, metaphor, simile, and allusion, which are (as he says in 
the preface to the Wisdom of the Ancients) a veil to hide from the 
eyes of the vulgar things too deep and difficult for their compre- 
hension. It is desirable that this system or method, of Bacon, 
should be clearly recognised and understood; it forms a very 
important element in the matters which are presently to be dis- 
cussed, and since there are many persons ready to enter into 
arguments connected with Bacon, but who have never read his 
works, no apology is needed for reproducing passages from 
various places where he speaks for himself and in no uncertain 
tones: 

'' Parabolic poesy is of a higher character than others (narra- 
tive or dramatic), and appears to be something sacred and ven- 
erable ; especially as religion itself commonly uses its aid as a 
means of communication between divinity and humanity. But 
this, too, is corrupted by the levity and idleness of wit in deal- 
ing with allegory. It is of double use and serves for contrary 



28 FRANCIS BACON 

purposes ; for it serves for an infoldment, and it likewise serves 
for illustration. In the latter case, the object is a certain method 
of teaching; in the former, an artifice for concealment. Now, 
this method of teaching, used for illustration, was very much in 
use in thefancient times. For, the inventions and conclusious 
of human reason (even those that are now common and trite) 
being then new and strange, the minds of men were hardly 
subtle enough to conceive them, unless they were brought nearer 
to the sense by this kind of resemblances and examples. And 
hence the ancient times are full of all kinds of fables, parables, 
enigmas, and similitudes; as may appear by the numbers of 
Pythagoras, the enigmas of the Sphinx, the fables of J]^sop, and 
the like. The apophthegms, too, of the ancient sages, com- 
monly explained the matter by similitudes. Thus Menenius 
Agrippa, among the Romans (a nation at that time by no means 
learned), quelled a sedition by a fable. In a word, as hiero- 
glyphics were before letters, so parables were before arguments. 
And even now, and at all times, the force of parables is and has 
been excellent; because arguments cannot be made so perspicu- 
ous, nor true examples so apt. 

" But there remains yet another use of poesy parabolical, 
opposite to the former; wherein it serves (as I said) for an 
infoldment ; for such things, I mean, the dignity whereof requires 
that they should be seen, as it were, through a veil; that is, 
when the secrets and mysteries of religion, policy, and philosophy 
are involved in fables or parables. Notv, whether any mystic 
meaning he concealed beneath the fables of the ancient poets is a 
matter of some doubt. For my own part I must confess that I am 
inclined to think that a mystery is involved in no small number of 
them. Nor does the fact that they are commonly left to boys and 
gramn),arians, and held in slight repute, make me despise them; 
but rather, since it is evident that the writings in which these 
fables are related are, next to sacred story, the most ancient of 
human writings, and the fables themselves still more ancient, I 
take them to be a kind of breath, from the traditions of more 
ancient nations, which fell into the pipes of the Greeks. But 
since that tvhich has hitherto been done in the interpretation of 
these parables, being the tvork of unskillful men, not learned 
beyond commonplaces, does not by any means satisfy me, I think 
to set down Philosophy according to the ancient parables among 
the desiderata, of which work I will subjoin one or two exam- 
ples ; not so much, perhaps, for the value of the thing, as for the 
sake of carrying out my principle, which is this : whenever I set 
down a zcork among the desiderata (if there be anything obscure 
about it) I intend ahvays to set forth either instructions for the 
execution of it, or an example of the thing; else it might be 



AND ms SECMET SOCIETY. 29 

thought that it was merely some light notion that had glanced 
through my mind; or that I am like an augur measuring coun- 
tries in thought, without knowing the way to enter them. " 

He then gives three examples (to which we will by and by 
return), '' one taken from things natural, one from things 
political, and one from things moral." 

From this notable passage we learn, (1) that Bacon regarded 
parabolic poetry as a means of communication between Divinity 
and Humanity, consequently as of greater importance than any 
other; (2) of double use, for infoldment and illustration; (3) that 
tlie use of parables was sanctioned by religion and Divinity itself; 
(4) that it was largely employed in the philosophy of the ancients, 
and that, although this was a matter of doubt with others, there 
was no doubt in the mind of Bacon that the philosophical inter- 
pretation of the ancient myths was deficient, left to boys and 
incapable persons; and that (5) according to his custom, he was 
prepared to set forth instructions for the purpose of meeting this 
deficiency. 

The examples given in the Advancement of Learning are but 
solitary instances. In the Wisdom of the Ancients (now too lit- 
tle read), thirty-one essays disclose to us the matured opinions 
of Bacon on this subject. The preface to that delightful book 
repeats at greater length, and in more poetic language, the sen- 
timents expressed in the Advancement of Learning, that " para- 
bles serve as well to instruct and illustrate as to wrap up and 
envelope, and every man of learning must readily allow that this 
method is grave, sober, or exceedingly useful, and sometimes 
necessary in the sciences, as it opens an easy and familiar pas- 
sage to the human understanding in all discoveries that are 
abstruse and out of the road of vulgar opinions. Hence, in the 
first ages, when such inventions and conclusions of the human 
reason as are now trite and common were new and little 
known, all things^ abounded with fables, parables, similes, com- 
parisons, and illustrations, which are not intended to conceal, 
but to inform and teach, whilst the minds of men continued rude 

1 "For there's /<7!(?-es in all things." (Hcnrj- V. iv. 7.) 



30 FMANCIS BACON 

and unpractised in matters of subtlety and speculation, or were 
impatient, and in a manner incapable, of receiving such things 
as did not directly fall under and strike the senses. And 
even to this day, if any man would let new light in upon the 
human understanding, and conquer prejudice, without raising 
contests, animosities, opposition, or disturbance, he must still go 
on in the same path, and have recourse to the like method of alle- 
gory, metaphor, and allusion. " Bacon had said in the Advance- 
ment of Learning — and he repeated in the Be Augment is in 
1623 — that such parabolic teaching and method of interpreta- 
tion was deficient, and that he was about to set forth examples 
for the instruction of others. His assertions and conclusions 
were never challenged or contradicted. On the contrary, his 
contemporaries tacitly acquiesced in his statements, and pos- 
terity has endorsed the estimate given by the great men of his 
time as to his vast and profound learning and his excellent judg- 
ment. When, therefore, we meet with other works of his time, 
not published under his name, but abounding in " the like 
method " and use of allegory, metaphor, and allusion, we may 
with reason question the origin of such works; we may even 
consider it to be a matter of considerable doubt. In any case 
we shall be prepared to find Bacon's own works abounding with 
metaphors and similes, and his new and subtle ideas and theo- 
ries " tvrapped or delivered " in a veil of parable, and allegory, 
and symbolic language. 

Having regard to such considerations as the foregoing, it was 
thought necessary to test the matter by forming a kind of dic- 
tionary or harmony of the metaphors, similes, and figurative ex- 
pressions in the acknowledged works of Bacon and in Shake- 
speare. About forty thousand of such figurative passages have 
been brought together from the two groups of works, and it is 
thus made clear that the metaphors and figures used are to a 
marvellous extent the same. They exhibit everywhere the same 
knowledge, the same opinions and tastes, and often the same 
choice of words; they mutually elucidate and interchange ideas; 
they are found to be connected by innumerable small links and 
chains with certain fixed ideas which reappear throughout the 



AND ms SMCltET SOCIETY. 31 

whole of Bacon's works, and which are indissolubly bound up 
with the system or method by which he was endeavoring to 
educate and reform the world. It will be observed that Bacon 
bases his teaching, in the first instance, upon the figures used in 
the Bible and by the ancient philosophers, but that he beautifies 
aud expands every symbol, transmuting stones into gold, and 
making dry bones live. It is impossible to follow up the many 
questions which grow out of this subject without perceiving that 
Bacon must in his early youth have deeply studied and mastered 
the philosophy, not only of the Greeks and Romans (with whom 
he often compares himself), but also of the learned men of Asia 
and Africa. The works of Claudius Galen, Porphyry, Diogenes 
of Babylon, Constantinus Porphyrogenitus, and Confucius seem 
to have been as well known to him as those of the Africans, 
Origen, Diophantus, Atheua^us. Athauasius, Euclid, St. Augus- 
tine, or Mohammed Rhazi. Many of the allegories and fanciful 
symbols or emblems which Bacon introduces into his writings, 
and which are also abundant in Shakespeare, seem derivable 
from such studies. 

We shall presently have to consider the use which Bacon 
intended to make of this symbolic language and the manner 
in which it may be interpreted. Let it be said, in passing, that, 
although Bacon seems to have made an unwearied and exhaust- 
ive research into all the ancient philosophies attainable in his 
time, and although, in his early youth, he seems to have been 
strongly attracted by the study, extracting from it many beau- 
tiful and poetic ideas, yet there is in his works no trace of his 
mind having undergone the upsetting which is perceptible in so 
many modern students who have " puzzled their intellects" over 
the origin of religion. There is no indication of his having ever 
tried to persuade himself, or others, that Paganism or Buddhism 
itself was the pure and primitive form of religion from which 
Christianity derives all that is most good and elevating in its 
teaching or doctrine. 

He observes the errors and corruptions of these old cults, 
although at the same time appreciating all that is worthy of 
praise; and in his effort to mingle heaven and earth, metaphys- 



3'J FRANCIS BACON 

ics and science, the abstract and the concrete, he never indulges 
in the ecstasies of mysticism or occultism, which modern stu- 
dents of these subjects, following the questionable guidance of 
the .mediaeval orientalists and mystics, have allowed themselves. 
The symbols which these ancient religions are said to* have 
adopted were in many cases connected with ideas and cere- 
monies gross and repulsive, the natural product of coarse and 
ignorant minds. And these seem to have grown even more 
coarse and injurious when the world — no longer in its infancy, 
but assuming the airs and speaking with the authority of man- 
hood — proceeded, several hundred years after the death of 
Christ, to erect an elaborate fabric of philosophy upon the 
original rough-hewn foundations; endeavoring to blend the 
pure morality of Christianity, and the most subhme attributes 
of Christ Himself, with the worship of Buddha, and then to 
make it appear that the " Light of the World" is but a reflected 
light from the " Light of Asia." 

There is no trace of such a result from Bacon's researches into 
the philosophies of antiquity, and it will be seen that, even in 
adopting the emblems and symbols of the ancient religions, he 
modified them, refined them, and separated from the dross of 
base matter all that was pure, good, and bright, for the use of 
man. 

Doubts as to authorship, though intensified by examination of 
the metaphors, etc., were not satisfied, and quickly gave rise to 
others. 

An attempt was next made to trace the notes of Bacon's 
Promus, as well as his figures and peculiar terms of speech, 
his opinions, scientific statements, and philosophic aphorisms, 
into other works not Shakespeare. So few Promus notes of 
this kind were found, when compared with the multitude of 
them which are easily perceptible in Shakespeare, that, at the 
time of the publication of the Promus, we were disposed to reject 
as non-Baconian most of the Elizabethan dramatists excepting 
'' Marlowe, " in whose works at least fiv' undred points of sim- 
ilarity to Baconian notes and diction a ^ be found. A closer 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 33 

(or perhaps a more enlightened) study obliges us to modify 
these views. For it is observed that, although, in many of 
these works, the Promus notes are scarce, and the entries in 
certain folios of that collection altogether absent, yet, wherever 
any Promus notes are discovered in the works of Bacon's time, 
or for some years later, there also will almost surely he found a 
number of metaphors of the same kind as those mentioned above. 
The majority of these will be found traceable to the ancient 
philosophers and to the Bible, and are always used in the same 
characteristic and graphic manner in Bacon's works; the form 
of the metaphor being modified to suit the style and subject of 
the piece in which it is set. 

This perceptible connection between the metaphors, the Promus 
notes, and the use of texts from the Bible, throughout the works 
of Bacon, and the school which he seems to have created, 
strengthened still further the growing conviction that he was the 
centre of a powerful and learned secret society, and that the 
■whole of the literature contemporaneous with him was bound 
together by chains and links, cords and threads, forged, woven, 
and spun by himself. 

With regard to the Promus, edited with passages from 
Shakespeare, and published in 1883, we would say that further 
study has thrown new light upon many of the entries. Some, 
which appeared very obscure, seem to be intimately connected 
with Bacon's plans for the establishment of his secret society. 
There are also many errors in the arrangement of the notes, 
some being divided which should have been treated as a whole, 
and the sheets themselves, as arranged in the Harleian collection, 
are not, in the editor's opinion, correctly placed. We make no 
apologies for deficiencies in carrying out a work which was, in 
the then stage of knowledge, a much more difQcult business than 
it now appears. Ill health must have its share of blame, the 
editor being rendefed incapable of revising proofs with the 
manuscript at the British Museum. . A future edition shall be 
much more perfect. 

Still prosecuting f ■ '^ work of comparative philology and 
science; the present o' ler was irresistibly drawn to the con- 

3 



34 FRANCIS BACON 

elusion that the works actually written by Bacon himself are far 
in excess of those ascribed to him by the majority even of his 
most enthusiastic admirers. It became evident that it would 
have been beyond human power for any single individual to 
have observed, experimented, travelled, read, written, to the 
extent which we find Bacon to have done, unless he had been 
aided in the mechanical parts of his work by an army of 
amanuenses, transcribers, collators, translators, and publishers, 
and even by powerful friends in high places, and by the control 
of the leading printing-presses. 

An examination into Bacon's own repeated statements as to 
the ignorance, incapacity, and miseries of the age in which he 
lived, shows him pointing out, amongst other things, the 
" poverty " of language, the lack of words, the necessity for a 
mutual exchange of words through many countries, in order to 
perform that nuble and much needed work of building up a fine 
model of language. He notes the absence of graceful forms of 
speech; of commencements, continuations, and conclusions of 
sentences; of a scientific grammar of philology, in default of 
which he has been obliged to make " a kind of" grammar for 
himself. He shows that there were, in his time, no good col- 
lections of antitheta, sophisms, and arguments, and that the 
good sayings of the ancients were lost, or choked in the dust of 
ages; also the ancient and scriptural use of parables, figures, 
metaphors, similes, and so forth, was extinct; the sciences were 
"weak things" weakly handled; the learning had become 
" words, not matter;" " the muses were barren virgins;" poetry 
and the theatre at the lowest level. 

So Bacon found things when he conceived his magnificent idea 
of the " Universal Eeformation of the whole wide world. " He 
was at that time a lad of fifteen, and there is reason to be- 
lieve that he had already written, or was in process of writing, 
poetry and other works which passed then, and at later periods, 
as the productions of men of mature years, " authors " of an 
earlier or later date than is generally ascribed to the works of 
Francis Bacon. 

And, as in his boyhood he found the world of science and litera- 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 35 

ture, not in this country only, but also on the continent (for he 
makes no exceptions or qualifications to his statement as to the gen- 
eral ignorance tohich prevailed), so, excluding his own work from 
the inquiry, he found it still, when, in his old age, he for the 
last time summed up the wants and deficiencies of the world in 
all these matters. In youth, enthusiasm had led him to hope 
and believe in a speedy regeneration and quickening of the 
minds and spirits of men. In old age he had learned that " the 
dull ass will not mend his pace, " and that such advance could 
only be by slow degrees, and in the future ages. " Of myself ^^ 
he says, " I am silent," but he repeats his former opinions and 
statements with undiminished emphasis in 1G23. 

In the face of such facts as these, it appears monstrous to 
believe that there could really have been in Bacon's time that 
" galaxy of wits," that extraordinary blaze and outburst of 
light from many suns, and from a heaven full of stars of the 
first magnitude, such as we have been taught in our child- 
hood not only to discern, but to distinguish. It is more reason- 
able to suppose that one sun, one supreme spirit, the great nat- 
ural magician and natural philosopher, like Prospero, with 
many " meaner ministers" to do his biddings, should have 
planned and carried out, by a method to be transmitted through 
the whole century, that Great Reformation of the whole world 
which had been his boyish dream, his fixed idea at the age of 
fifteen. Bacon's chief biographer lays stress upon this fact, and 
as it is one which is intimately connected with the history of 
the Secret Society which is the subject of the following pages, 
it is desirable that it should be firmly established. Again, there- 
fore, we draw attention to the eloquent and beautiful chapter 
with which Mr. Spedding opens his " Letters and Life of Bacon. " 
After telling of the brilliant career of the youthful Francis at 
Trinity College, Cambridge, of the disappointment which he 
experienced in that university where he hoped to have learned 
all that men knew, but where, as he declared, they taught 
"words, not matter," Mr. Spedding says: "It was then a 
thought struck him, the date of which deserves to be recorded, 
not for anything extraordinary in the thought itself, but for its 



36 FRANCIS BACON 

influence upon his after life. If our study of nature be thus 
barren, he thought, our method of study must be wrong ; might 
not a better method be found ? In him the gift of seeing in 
prophetic vision what might be, and ought to be, was united 
with the practical talent of devising means and handling minute 
details. He could at once imagine like a poet, and execute like 
a clerk of the works. Upon the conviction, This may be done, 
followed at once the question, How can it be done ? Upon that 
question followed the resolution to try and do it. " 

Of the degrees by which the suggestion ripened into a project, 
the project into an undertaking, and the undertaking unfolded 
itself into distinct propositions and the full grandeur of its total 
dimensions, I can say nothing. But that the thought first 
occurred to him during his residence at Cambridge, therefore 
before he had completed his fifteenth year, we know on the best 
authority — his own statement and that of Dr. Eawley. "I 
believe," says Mr. Spedding, " that it ought to be regarded as 
the most important event of his life; the event which had a 
greater influence than any other upon his character and future 
course. From that moment there was awakened within his 
breast the appetite which cannot be satiated, and the passion 
which cannot commit excess. From that moment he had a 
vocation which employed and stimulated all the energies of his 
mind, gave a value to every vacant interval of time, an interest 
and significance to every random thought and casual accession 
of knowledge ; an object to live for, as wide as humanity, as 
immortal as the human race; an idea to live in, vast and lofty 
enough to fill the soul forever with religious and heroic aspira- 
tions. From that moment, though still subject to interruptions, 
disappointments, errors, regrets, he never could be without either 
work, or hope, or consolation. " 

The biographer then shows how the circumstances of Bacon's 
early life tended to enlist him on the side of reform, religious, 
scientific, literary, and philanthropic, and to nourish in him high 
and loyal aspirations. 

"Assuming, then," continues he, "that a deep interest in 
these three great causes — ihe cause of reformed religion, of his 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 37 

native country, and of the human race through all their genera- 
tions — was thus early implanted in that vigorous and virgin 
soil, we must leave it to struggle up as it may, according to the 
accidents of time and weather. ... Of Bacon's life I am per- 
suaded that no man will ever form a correct idea, unless he bear 
in mind that from very early youth his heart was divided by 
these three objects, distinct but not discordant." i 

In the preface to the De Interpretatione Natiirce Prcemium 
{circa 1603) Spedding describes that paper as of " pecuhar 
interest for us, on account of the passage in which Bacon' 
explains the plans and purposes of his life, and the estimate he 
had formed of his own character and abilities; a passage which 
was replaced in the days of his greatness by a simple De nobis 
ipsis silemus. It is the only piece of autobiography in tvhich he 
ever indulged, 2 and deserves on several accounts to be carefully 
considered. The biographer goes on to say that Bacon's own 
account, written when he was between forty and fifty, of the 
plan upon which his life had been laid out, the objects which he 
mainly aimed at, and the motives which guided him, will be 
found, when compared with the courses which he actually 
followed in his varied life, to present a very remarkable example 
of constancy to an original design. He began by conceiving 
that a wiser method of studying nature would give man the key 
to all her secrets, but the work would be long and arduous, and 
the event remote ; in the meanwhile, he would not neglect the 
immediate and peculiar services which, as an Englishman, he 
owed to his country and his religion. With regard to the last 
two he found, as life wore away, that the means and opportuni- 
ties which he had hoped for did not present themselves; and he 
resolved to fall back upon the first, as an enterprise which 
depended upon himself alone. " 

Perhaps it may be found that Bacon's reason for throwing his 
chief weight into the work which none could execute except 
himself, was that he did find means and opportunities, through 

1 Spedding, Letters and Life of Bacon, i. 4, 5. 

2 This observation will, we think, require modification. '' It is the only 
piece of autobiography which he acknowledges." 



38 FRANCIS BACON 

others, to advance not only politics and statesmanship, but relig- 
ion and the cause of the church. It will, however, be easily 
seen that if Bacon would carry forward such work, in times so 
" dark and dangerous, " he must do it secretly, and by the aid 
of powerful friends and assistants. We, therefore, find ourselves 
engaged in tracing the workings of a great secret society; 
and since, so far as we have discovered, that work depended 
mainly upon Bacon himself, it is necessary to regard his life and 
actions from a totally new point of view, and to acknowledge at 
the outset that, excepting in the capacity of lawyer, which he 
disliked and shrank from; of courtier, for which he felt himself 
" tmajit;" and of statesman, for which he pronounced himself 
to be " least fit, ^^ very little is really known about Francis Bacon. 

This lack of satisfactory information has probably led modern 
writers too much to copy from each other, without duly weigh- 
ing and examining statements made hastily, to turn a phrase, 
or of malice prepense. It is usual, in other cases, to lay great 
store by the evidence of respectable contemporary authority. 
(Need we remind any one of the eagerness with which such pieces 
of evidence, even the weakest, have been snatched at and en- 
shrined as gems of priceless value, when they seemed to affect "Wil- 
liam Shakspere?) But, with Francis Bacon, the case is altered. 
Evidence of contemporary writers, such as Ben Jonson, or Dr. 
Sprat, president of the Royal Society, or of Bacon's secretary, 
afterwards the Queen's chaplain. Dr. Rawley, or of his intimate 
friend and life-long correspondent, Sir Tobie Matthew, is waived 
aside, when they pour out, in eloquent language, their witness as 
to his greatness, his genius, his sweetness, and devoutness of 
disposition and mind. Aubrey is " a gossip " when he echoes 
the tale, and says, emphasising the words, that " all who were 
good and great loved him." The rest were ''prejudiced," or 
" partial, " or did not mean what they said. 

Why are such records of Bacon's closest friends, secretaries, 
coadjutors, and contemporaries, as well as those of his most 
painstaking biographers, and of his most' appreciative disciples 
and followers, to bo rejected in favor of two lines of poetry 
penned more than a hundred years after his death, and of a hos- 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 39 

tile review of Basil Montagu's edition of Bacon's works ? For 
many years those two lines of Pope, and that review of Macau- 
lay, together with Lord Campbell's odious little " Life of Bacon" 
(based upon Macaulay's essay), were nearly all that the English 
public read with regard to " Francis Bacon, the glory of his age 
and nation, the adoruer and ornament of learning, " " the most 
prodigious wit" that the world has seen, " the benefactor of the 
human race in all ages. " 

Let us forget the foolish and cruel things which modern igno- 
rance and prejudice have said of him, things which must be ex- 
cused and partly justified by our theory that he was, throughout 
his life, a ^^ concealed man^^ — not only a "concealed poet," 
but a concealed theologian and religious reformer or revivaUst ; 
, and that, by the very rules of his own secret society, not only 
was he bound, in these capacities, to efface himself, to allow him- 
self to be, to any extent, maligned and disgraced, rather than 
declare his real vocation and aims, but, also (and this is very 
important), his oion friends must ignore him, as he must likewise 
ignore them, in all relations excepting those which he " pro- 
fessed"— as a public character and a philosopher. 

In the following chapters we shall not attempt to give a 
" life" of Bacon in his accepted characters of statesman, lawyer, 
or scientist, all of which has been faithfully, and, perhaps, ex- 
haustively, treated of by Spedding and others. Our efforts will 
be directed to selecting, from the writings of his contemporaries 
and later biographers and critics, some passages which seem to 
throw light upon the obscure or private recesses of his life — 
passages which are sometimes introduced in such a manner as 
to favour the belief that they were intended to be passed over 
by the general reader, whilst, to the initiated observer, they 
were full of suggestion and ioformation. 



CHAPTER III. 

FKANCIS BACON : A MYSTERY SURROUNDS HIS PRIVATE LIFE 
AND CHARACTER. 

" I prefer to keep state in these matters." 
"Behind to concealed poets.'''' 

THE more closely we peer into Bacon's history, the more par- 
ticularly we follow up inquiries about him, — his private life, 
his habits, his travels, his friends, his will, his death, — the ruore 
mysterious a personage does he appear. His public or super- 
ficial life seems easy enough to understand, but whenever we 
endeavour to go beyond this we find ourselves continually con- 
fronted with puzzles and enigmas, and we feel that Ben Jonsou 
was justified in saying, in his ode on Bacon's birthday, — 

" Thou stand'st as though a mystery thou, didst." 

This mystery is felt in many ways. Several times we find him 
writing with locked doors, the subject of his labours not known, 
his friends offended by his secresy and reticence. We find collec- 
tions of his letters, distinctly hfs, and with nothing in them which 
could apparently injure the writer, or any one else, published 
with names and dates cancelled, and with everything possible 
done to conceal their aim or their author. We find him writing 
in ambiguous terms (which only knowledge derived from other 
sources enables us to interpret), and using feigned names, ini- 
tials, and pass-words in his private letters. The cipher which 
he invented when he was eighteen or nineteen years old, he has 
used and tested, and finds to be superior to all others, when he 
is sixty-two. How, when, and wherefore, did he use or require 
this extensive knowledge and use of ciphers? And, in describ- 
ing the ciphers, he speaks of other concealed means of com- 

(4°) 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY, 41 

munication, of short-hand writing, of hieroglyphic pictures and 
designs. Since he tells us that what he recommends he always 
endeavours to practice or achieve, we seek for these things in 
his own books, and find them there. 

He enumerates the thirty or forty great deficiencies of learn- 
ing in his time, and shows how he has endeavoured to supply 
them; we take much pains to master these, to understand them 
thoroughly, and to trace them in his works. Thus armed and well 
prepared, we set forth to mark their deficiency, or to compare 
their use in works by other contemporary authors. We are al- 
most appalled to meet with them there, too, sometimes fewer in 
number, but the same in nature and quality. What is to be thought 
of this! That Bacon did not know what he was talking about? 
or that there was a general conspiracy of the wits of his age to 
gull the public as to the authorship of these works ? If they 
were Bacon's works, why did he not acknowledge them? Yet, if 
they were not his, how could he persist that all the chief flow- 
ers of language were uncultivated, when the works in question 
were overrun by them ? 

There are many knotty points connected with this branch of 
the subject. Why, for instance, did Bacou, notably so kind, so 
large-hearted, so just in acknowledging merit in others, and in 
** giving authors their due, as he gave Time his due, which is to 
discover Truth" — why, wo say, did he ignore the existence of 
nearly every great contemporary author? How came it that 
this bright man, who so pre-eminently shone in his power of 
drawing out the best parts of those with whom he conversed, 
who delighted, when quoting from others, to set an additional 
sparkle on their words, and to make them a^ipear cleverer or 
more learned than they really were — how did such a man con- 
trive to avoid all allusion to the mass of great literature of all 
kinds which was poured out unremittingly during nearly fifty 
years of his life, and which continued tor some years after his 
death? 

Bacon spoke of parabolic poetry as deficient, and the use of it 
lost or misunderstood; and he ignores the Arcadia, the Faerie 
Queene, and the Shepherd's Calendar. 



42 FBANCIS BACON 

In 1623 he mourns the degradation of the theatre, and the 
contempt with which the noble arts of rhetoric and stage 
playiDg were treated, ignoring the Shakespeare plays, which 
had at that time been played upon the stage for a quar- 
ter of a century, and of which the first collected edition 
had just been (almost simultaneously with the publica- 
tion of the De Augmentis) published, heralaed into the 
world with a great flourish of trumpets by Ben Jonson. 
He equally ignores Ben Jonson, although Every Man in 
his Humour was acted at the Blackfriar's Theatre in 1598 (two 
or three years after the first appearance of the Shakespeare 
plays), and although, too, William Shakspere acted on this 
occasion. 

It is remarkable that it should have ever been, for an instant, 
credited that Francis Bacon never saw the Shakespeare plays 
performed, or even that he should not have known all about the 
plays, and the man who was passing with the public as their, 
author. For thirty years Shakspere lived in London. During 
those years Bacon was continually assisting, and promoting, and 
joyfully witnessing the performances of these and other plays, at 
Gray's Inn and Whitehall, and at the private houses of his 
friends the Earls of Leicester, Pembroke, Montgomery, and 
others. Why did he never, in any acknowledged work, allude 
to Shakespeare or to Ben Jonson, who, as has been shown, was 
at one time resident in his house ? 

Essays were a new form of writing, and the very word 
" essay," Bacon tells us, was new. One would suppose that in 
saying this he would allude to the " Essays of Montaigne, " pub- 
lished long before Bacon's "Moral Essays." All the more he 
might be expected to allude to Montaigne, because, at the time 
of the publication of the first edition of Montaigne's Essays, 
Francis and Anthony Bacon were living in the South of France, 
anid on very intimate terms with the good mayor, " the kind 
patron of learned men, " as we learn from Anthony Bacon's cor- 
respondence. But, although the friendship between these men 
continued to the end of Montaigne's life, and although the old 
man made a pilgrimage to Verulara to visit his younger friend, 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 43 

yet Bacon, in his enumeration of deficiencies, makes no allusion 
to him as tbo author of essays which were in their day most 
famous, aud which ran through a surprising number of editions 
within a few years. 

John Florio is supposed to have translated these French essays 
into English. Now, we have documentary evidence that Florio 
translated " all the works of Bacon " into foreign languages (we 
suppose French and Italian), and ^^ published them beyond the 
seas.'^ Bacon, then, must have been intimately acquainted 
with Florio. Yet he never mentions him. James I. gave Florio 
an annuity of- £50 per annum, because he had " translated the 
King's work, and all the tvorks of Viscount St. Albans.'^ So 
James, also, was deeply interested in Bacon's proceedings. It 
might have been supposed that the circumstance of his having 
pensioned Florio because the latter translated Bacon's works, 
would have been noted by Bacon's biographers, and that more in- 
quiries would have been made concerning Florio and some remark- 
able works in English which are attributed to him. But no; the 
whole matter seems to have been studiously kept in the back- 
ground. The documents which record the fact of the transla- 
tion and subsequent pensioning have been printed by the His- 
torical Manuscripts Commission. But, although the editors and 
TDublishers must know of them, their purport lies unheeded, 
fmcommeuted on. A paragraph inserted in Notes and Queries, 
in which the inquiry was made as to any book or books of Bacon's 
known to have been translated by Florio, and published on the 
continent, has never been answered. Yet, amongst the tran- 
scribers, editors, and publishers of the" Pembroke Papers " by 
the Historical Commission, there must have been men who are 
acquainted with the current history of Bacon, and who must 
have seen something strange in the fact that James I. granted 
an annuity to the supposed translator of Montaigne's Essays, on 
the ground of his being the translator of all Bacon's tvorks. 

Then, again, the sixteen folio volumes of Anthony Bacon's 
correspondence which rest under the dust of oblivion on the 
shelves of the library at Lambeth Palace —how comes it that 
these, too, have been so much kept in the background that, on 



44 FBANCIS BACON 

tracing a letter of Nicholas Faunt to Anthony Bacon, which is 
the first alluded to by Mr. Spedding (and this in a foot-note), we 
find it to be one of a large and important collection which throws 
great light upon the position and aims of the Bacons? Two or 
three references are all that can be found to this voluminous 
correspondence. 

The sense of mystery is again perceptible in the explanations 
given by Bacon's biographers of his system of philosophy, or 
" methods, " which are, of course, treated of as applying merely 
to the science which is their ostensible aim. This evident and 
intentional obscurity has been rightly attributed to two causes. 
First, he hoped, by his method of teaching by means of parables, 
similitudes, and analogies, to avoid all occasion of dispute and 
controversy, things always abhorrent to his nature. Next, his 
doctrine was to be veiled in an abrupt and obscure style, such 
as, to use his own expression, would " choose its reader " — that 
is, would remain unread excepting by worthy recipients of its 
hidden meaning. This affected obscurity appears in the De 
Interpretatione Natura Prcemium, where he speaks of his 
peculiar method as a thing not to be published, but to be commu- 
nicated orally to certain persons. The same veil of mystic lan- 
guage is thrown over Valerius Terminus, the Temporis Partus 
Masculus, and, as we now know, over the Neio Atlantis. The 
whole of the notes in the Si/lva Sylvarum, the Histories of Dense 
and Rare, of Sulphur, Mercury, and Salt, of Principles and 
Origins according to the Tables of Cupid and Coelam, and even, 
we believe, the Thema Coeli, the History of the Winds, the 
Interpretation of Nature, the History of Life and Death, the Neiv 
Atlantis, are written with a double meaning and for a double 
purpose, and the same ambiguity pervades the collections of 
letters to and from Anthony Bacon and Francis himself. 

There are upwards of sixty letters from Anthony Stauden to 
Anthony Bacon previous to the one from which Spedding ex- 
tracts his first quotation ; and there are other correspondents 
whose letters will, undoubtedly, at some future date, be held of 
great value and interest. The drift of these letters must have 
been understood by the compilers of the printed catalogue of 



AND HIS SECEET SOCIETl 45 

the Teuison manuscripts, aud by biographers who have quoted 
from some of these letters. What satisfactory reason can be 
given for the fact that a hint of the existence of this corre- 
spondence is here and there given, and letters are published 
which bear directly up m politics or the passing history of the 
day, but that the true purport of the collective correspondence 
is everywhere concealed? For these letters, taken collectively, 
have a distinct and harmonious aim aud drift. They teach us that 
Francis Bacon was the recognised head of a secret society bound 
together to advance learning aud to uphold religion, and that 
Anthony Bacon was his brother's propagandist and correspond- 
ing manager on the continent. 

It seems very probable that future research will prove Anthony 
Bacon to have besn "a concealed pact," as well as his 
brother. If this was not the case, then Anthony must have been 
anotherofthe many masks behind which Francis screened his own 
personality; but the former seems to be the more probable conjec- 
ture. Amongst the " Tenisou manuscripts " at Lambeth Palace, 
there is a large sheet covered on three sides with French verses, 
headed " Au Seigneur Antoine Bacon — Elegie," and signed La 
Tessee. These verses described " Bacon " as the flower of 
Englishmen, the honour of the nine Muses, who, without his aid, 
wandered sad and confused in the wilderness, without guide, 
support, or voice. The writer laments the want of more 
Mecenases who should value the favourites of Phoebus, Mercury, 
and Themis, and " lend a shoulder " to help poets; in future, he 
trusts that the number of these will be glorified not less beyond 
the seas than in these islands, remembering a time " when our 
swans surpassed those of the Thames " — alluding to the loss of 
Bonsard, Garnier, Aurat, Bayf, and Saluste. Himself, the sur- 
viving poet, sees a new Age of Iron after their Age of Gold. He 
alludes to " Bacon " as " a brilliant star seen in tranquil nights 
as through a thick veil ; " so a man of honour, virtue, and wit 
shines amongst these "milords," and so does "Bacon," the 
" oracle of his isle, " one whom to praise is an honour. 

Such a man, continues the poet, is the hope and ornament of 
his country. To him Themis, the wise (by the messenger Mer- 



40 FRANCIS BACON 

cury, who expounds her message), entreats heaven, eartli, audthe 
infernal regions to forward his steps. To him " devout Piety, 
the pillar of the church, offers her most precious gifts, that he 
may rank with iinmortal heroes, "for "so rare a spirit, con- 
tinually bent upon safely steering the helm of the state in the 
stormiest times, is not unworthy that the state should care for his 
interests. Baccon [sic], the eye of wisdom, in whom goodness 
abounds, raises men above themselves and above the world. He 
retiresinto himself — a perfect and holy place — his soul wrapped 
in his reason, and his reason wrapped in God. " 

Surely, though the poetry is poor, the matter of these verses 
is sufficiently remarkable for them to have been commented 
upon by some biographer or antiquarian ? "We note, then, as a 
remarkable fact, that these verses (numbered- folio 175, in vol. 
XV. 661) are not induied in the printed catalogue. Nos. 174 and 
176 are duly registered, but 175 is omitted. Could this omis- 
sion be accidental ? 

In the Harleian MSS. there is the collection of notes described 
as the " Pro'nus of Formularies and Elegancies." These papers 
consist of fifty sheets, numbered from 83 to 132, and the collec- 
tion is marked No. 7017. It is omitted in the catalogue.'^ Yet, 
within the last few years, these MSS. have been frequently seen 
and studied by various inquirers. 

By and by there will be occasion to return to these ques- 
tions; they involve a great many others which we must not, at 
present, stop to consider. But the list of inquiries in other 
directions is still a long one, and should incline those who 
heartily desire to get at the pith and truth of these matters, to 
be very humble as to their own knowledge, very cautious about 
adopting ready-made opinions or assertions, which, when tested, 
are found incapable of supporting themselves. 

What was the cause of Bacon's great poverty at times when he 
was living very quietly, and at small personal expense ? Why 
did his elder brother Anthony never remonstrate or disapprove 

1 Kather it was omitted until June, 1890, when a gentleman, who became 
aware of the omission, requested that the MSS. No. 7017 should bo duly regis- 
tered in the catalogue. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 47 

of his unexplained expenditure, or of the straits to which he 
himself was sometimes put, in order to meet the claims upon 
Francis? Did the brothers' money go chiefly in publishing? 
And again we say, what share did Anthony Bacon take in his 
brother's works ? If, as Dr. Rawley declared, his learning was 
not so profound, but his wit was as high as Francis's, did he, 
perhaps, frame the plots of many of the plays which Francis 
polished and finished ? Where did Anthony die ? Where is he 
buried? The absence of knowledge on this point draws our 
attention to the number of " great writers" and personal friends 
of Francis Bacon who died and were buried without notice or 
epitaph ; a plain slab sometimes marking the grave, but no 
mention being made of any works of which they were the 
authors. Yet " monuments of brass and stone" were then, as 
now, the rule, rather than the exception. On comparing the 
tombs of Bacon's friends, certain singular resemblances strike 
the eye, and are peculiar (so we think) to them and to their 
descendants. 

Such coincidences ought, one would think, to be easily ex- 
plained where such a man is concerned; but search the records 
of the time which are, up to the present date, published, and 
see how far you can enlighten yourselves as to any particulars 
of Bacon's domestic life. It becomes, after long search, impos- 
sible to resist the idea that Bacon had some great purpose to 
serve by keeping himself always in the background — behind the 
curtain. Whenever you catch a g]imps3 of him " he goes away 
in a cloud." 

It likewise seems that the whole of his most dear and loving 
friends combined to conceal his true personality, to assist him to 
enact the part of Proteus, and to ensure that when he should 
appear here, there, and everywhere, he should be able to pass 
unrecognised. Amongst Anthony's correspondents, he is rarely 
mentioned, but often alluded to as " the Hermit," the character 
which perhaps he himself undertook in the Gesta Grayorum. 
There are also some short poems, especially one a,dorned with a 
device of a hermit spurning a globe, which seem to apply to 
Francis Bacon, and to have bean written by him. 



48 FRANCIS BACON 

When the French amhassador, the Marquis Fiat, visited him 
during an illness, he said that his lordship had ever been to 
him like the angels, of whom he had often heard and read, but 
never seen. " After which visit they contracted an intimate ac- 
quaintance, and the Marquis did so much revere him, that 
besides his frequent visits [of which history tells us nothing] 
they wrote letters under the appellations of father and son." i 

With regard to Bacon's life, it is impossible to study it with 
any degree of care, without observing how often in his biog- 
raphies we come upon questions or doubts such as these: " Was 
he the author of Notes on the present state of Christendom f" "2 
" Beasons for suspecting him to be author of a ' Letter of Adoice to 
the Queen.'' "^ <« j'/^s alleged authorship of 'A Discourse touching 
the Low Countries, etc. ' "•* *' Besemblance between Bacon's style 
and that 0/ writings imputed to Essex," 5 etc. 

We read of his reluctance to devote himself to the practice of 
a lawyer, and of the difficulty of understanding what else he 
proposed to himself, or to what course he actually betook him- 
self in the year 1595-6. ^ " I do not find, " says his biographer, 
any letter of his that can be assigned to the winter of«'1596, 
nor have I mot, among his brother's papers, with anything 
which indicates what he was about. I presume, however, that 
he betook himself to his studies." He then gives a list of a 
few fragments written at this time. *' But there are," he con- 
tinues, '* some other compositions with which (though they do 
not pass under his name) thsre is reason to believe he had 
something to do, and which, considering the possibility that 
theif are entirely his loork, and the probability that they have some 
of his work in them, and their intrinsic value, I have deter- 
mined to lay before the reader in this chapter. "^ The biog- 
rapher then enumerates the contents of a box of letters and 
other papers which dated from this time, and which were in 
charge of Dr. Tenison in 1682. Amongst these, one of the most 
important was '* The Earl of Essex's advice to the Earl of Rut- 

1 Rawley'8 Life of Bacon. 2 Let. Life, i. 16, 17. 3 R. 43, 56, etc. 

4 Ih. 67. 5 ih. 391. « Ih. ii. 1. 7 Ih. ii. 2. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 4& 

land on his journey," of which three versions seem to exist,i 
and which Spedding shows to be written so much in Bacon's 
style as to be undistinguishable from it. " If Essex wrote a 
letter of grave advice to a young relative going on his travels, it 
would, no doubt, have a good deal of Bacon in it; if Bacon 
drew up a letter for Essex to sign, it would be such a one as 
Essex might naturally have written. Still, there is a charac- 
ter in language as in handwriting, which it is hardly possible 
to disguise. Little tricks of thought, like tricks of the hand, — 
peculiarities of which the writer is unconscious, — are percept- 
ible to the reader. " 2 Presently a similar question of author- 
ship arises with regard to a " Letter of advice from the Earl of 
Essex to Foulke Greville; " 3 and again the true author seems to 
be Bacon. 

Then we find a " Letter of advice to the Earl of Essex, " which, 
" like several others we shall meet with, has been preserved 
through two independent channels, and in two different forms; 
one in the collection kept by himself, and printed by Rawley in 
the Resiiscitatio, the other in a collection made, ive do not knoio 
by tvhom, and printed very incorrectly in the 'Remains^ (1648), 
and afterward in the ' CabaW (1654). " * 

There is a mystery about Sir Tobie Matthew's collection of let- 
ters to and from Bacon. These letters are, as a rule, not only 
without a date, but likewise they appear to have been " strip- 
ped of all particulars that might serve to fit the occasion" for 
which they were penned; sometimes, even, the person to whom 
they were addressed. One of these letters, " Desiring a friend 
to do him a service, " is remarkable, as showing that, although 
the matter which it concerns was of some importance, and might 
bring serious consequences to Bacon (he says that it will prob- 
ably " fall and seize on" him), yet it had been put out of his 
mind by some great " invention^' or work of imagination, 

1 One is in tlie Harleian MSS. (6265, p. 428). Sped. Let. Life, i. 4. 

2 lb. 5. 

3/6.21. 

4SpetUling, Let. Life, ii. 94. TMs letter is suspected of cipher and should be 
esamiueil. 



50 FRANCIS BACON 

which at the time wholly engrossed him. What was the par- 
ticular occasion upon which this letter was written, it is, says 
Spedding, "probably impossible to guess," but it was as fol- 
lows: 

" Sir: — The report of this act, tvMchlhope may prove the last of 
thisbusiness, ivill, probably, by the weight it carries, fall on and seize 
me. And, therefore, not at will, but upon necessity, it tvill become 
me to call to mind what passed; and, my head being then ivholly 
employed upon invention, I may the ivorse put things upon the ac- 
count of mine own memory. I shall take physic to-day, upon 
this change of weather and vantage of leisure; and I pray you not 
to allow yourself so much business, but that you may have time 
to bring me your friendly aid before night, " etc. i 

Another letter, dateless, but which has been referred to 
1G05-G, is all written in a tone of mystery and double entente — 
there seems to be no good reason why Bacon should plainly 
mention by name one work which he had accomplished, and 
carefully omit the name of another, or others, in which it is clear 
that his friend was interested : 

" Sir: — I perceive you have some time when you can be content 
tothinkofyourfriends, from whom, since you have borrowed your- 
self, you do well, not paying the principal, to send the interest at 
six months day. The relation which here I send you inclosed 
carries the truth of that which is public; and though my little 
leisure might have required a briefer, yet the matter would have 
endured and asked a larger. 

" I have now at last taught that child to go, at the swadling 
whereof you loere. My work touching the Advancement of Learn- 
ing I have put into two books; whereof the former, which you 
saw, I count but as a page to the latter," etc. 2 

In another ambiguous letter to Sir Tobie Matthew {circa 1609), 
Bacon says: " I have sent you some copies of the Advancement 
which you desired; and a little work of my recreation, which you 
desired not. My Instauration I reserve for our conference — it 

1 See Sir Tobie Matthew's collection of letters, p. 20, or Spedding, Let. and 
Life, iii. 216. 

2 Spedding, iii. 255; Sir T. M.'s coll. p. 11. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 51 

sleeps not. TJiose ivorks of the alphabet are in my opinion of less 
use to you ivhere you are now, than at Paris, and therefore I con- 
ceived that you had sent me a kind of tacit countermand of your 
former request. But, in regard that some friends of yours 
have still insisted here, I ssn'l thsm to you; ani for my part I 
value your reading more than your publishing them to others. 
Thus, in extreme haste, I have scribbled to you I know not ivhat, " 
etc.i 

" What these works of the alphabet may have been, I cannot 
guess," says Speddinj, in commenting upon this letter, " unless 
they related to Bacon's cipher, in which, by means of two alpha- 
bets, one having only two letters, the other having two forms 
for each of the twenty-four letters, any. words you please may 
be so written as to signify any other words, provided ouly that 
the open writing contains at least five times as many letters as 
the concealed. "2 

In the Promus, the mysterious letter has been connected with 
an entry in which Bacon seems to connect the plays with an 
alphabet: Ijsdem eUiteris efficitur tragcedia et comedia (Trag- 
edies and comedies are made of one alphabet),^ and the flist im- 
pression conveyed by this entry was that the alphabet was a 
secret term to express the comedies and tragedies, since Bacon 
quotes Aristotle to the effect that "Words are the images of 
cogitations, and letters are the images of words. " The recent 
discoveries of Mr. Donnelly and others seem to enhance the 
probability that the entry in question refers to the jolays contain- 
ing a cipher, the word alphabet bearing in this caseabifold allusiou 
to the nature of the tragedies and comedies, and a double fitness. 

And how are we to interpret the following passage from a 
letter of March 27, 1621-2, to Mr. Tobie Matthew? " If upon 
your repair to the court (whereof I am right glad) you have any 
speech with the Marquis [of Buckingham] of me, I pray j)' ace 
the alphabet, as you can do it right ivell, in a frame, to express 
my love, faithful and ardent, to him. '' 

1 Spedding, i. 134, and Sir T. M. p. 14. 

2 Let. Life, iv. 134. 

3 Promus, 516. The Latin quotation from Erasmus' Adagla, 725. 



52 FRA NCIS BA CON 

It has been suggested that this was a proposal (not carried 
out) that Sir Tobie should collect and edit the plays, and fit 
them to be presented as a tribute to the Marquis. Or it is pos- 
sible that the mysterious words express a wish that some mes- 
sage should be introduced in the alphabet cipher, which the 
Marquis would, supposing him to be a member of the secret 
society, be able to interpret. If so, this letter gives a hint of 
the system which the present writer believes to have been pur- 
sued with regard to nearly all these cipher notes or narratives, 
namely, that Bacon provided the materials or substance of the 
information to be conveyed, but that his " sons, " or disciples, did 
the mechanical work of fitting type, and other particulars, for 
the reception of the matter. 

We turn to a consideration of Bacon's character, his motives 
and aims in life, about which one would suppose that at this 
hour there could be no difficulty in arriving at a definite con- 
clusion. How many distinguished pens have been busy with 
lives, treatises, and essays on Francis Bacon ! Here, at least, 
it may be expected that the mists of doubt and darkness shall 
have been cleared away, and that we may rest upon positive 
authority. We are prepared to receive many shocks to our 
feelings, to find flaws in the character which we would wish to 
be an entire and perfect chrysolite ; still, it will be at least satis- 
factory to know that the whole truth is laid out before us, even 
if the contraries of good and evil must appear in this as in all 
things human. 

But here the confusion is worse than ever; the contradictions, 
the divergencies of opinion, are as extraordinary amongst those 
who have read much or something about Bacon as they are 
amongst those who have read little or nothing. Who has been 
more admired, more shamed, more spitefully or conscientiously 
abused, more revered and loved than Francis Bacon? A 
strange and wonderful man surely, who can be the subject of so 
many opposed opinions ! Somebody is right and somebody is 
wrong, that is clear, and we proceed to relieve the oppression 
produced by this cloud of witnesses, by putting down on paper 
the verdicts delivered by the numerous self-constituted judges 



AND HIS SECBET SOCIETY. 53 

who are the great authorities of the present day. To these we 
will add the utterances of Bacon's friends and contemporaries, 
who surely have an equal right to be heard. 

The startling result is this : That it is hardly possible to pro- 
duce a single statement concerning Bacon's character, disposi- 
tion, motives or aims, made by one " great authority," which is 
not contradicted by another authority, equally great. The fol- 
lowing are specimens of this kind of comparison — they might 
be trebled in volume — but they are enough to show that in 
tliis, as in other particulars, there is a mystery, and a want of 
accurate knowledge concerning our great subject. 



THE CHARACTER AND GENIUS OF FRANCIS BACON AS DESCRIBED 
BY GREAT AUTHORITIES. 

He was mean, nartoiv, and tvanting in moral courage. 

" The wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind." (Pope, Essay 
on Man.) 

" A serenity bordering on meanness . . , his fault was mean- 
ness of spirit. The mind of Waller coincided with that of 
Bacon ... a narrowness to the lowest degree, an abjectness and 
want of courage to support him in any virtuous undertaking. 
... Sir Anthony Weldon ... is likely enough to have exag- 
gerated the meanness of Bacon. " (Macaulay. ) 

*' He was anything rather than mean. " 

" On the other hand, he was generous, open-hearted, affec- 
tionate, peculiarly sensitive to kindness, and equally forgetful of 
injuries. The epithet of * great,' which has been so ungrudgingly 
accorded to him as a writer, might, without any singular impro- 
priety, be applied to him as a man. " (Prof. Fowler's Bacon, p. 28. ) 
" Greatness he could not want." (Ben Jonson, Discoveries.) 
" A man splendid in his expenses." (Sir Tobie Matthew.) 
" Weighted by the magnificence of his character." (Dr. Ab- 
bott's mtroduction to Bacon's Essays.) 



54 FBANCIS BACON 

Servile — A flatterer, faivning on the great — A courtier by choice. 

" Fearful to a fault of offending the powerful, ... his sup- 
plications almost servile. ... A servile advocate, that he might 
be a corrupt judge. ... He excused himself in terms which 
. . . must be considered as shamefully servile. " (Macaulay.) 

" Mixed up with servile entreaties for place. " (Sortaine, Life 
of Lord Bacon, 40, etc. Followed by Lord Campbell, pp. 3, 
12, 26, etc.) 

" For his want of leisure he was himself to blame, because he 
deliberately preferred the life of a courtier and a politician to 
the life of a seeker after truth." (Abbott, Francis Bacon, 413. 
See infra.) 

Neither servile nor a flatterer. 

" He must have been most of all a stranger amid the alien ser- 
vility imposed upon him by the court of James I. ... He was 
altogether too vast and grand for an easy flatterer." (Dr. Ab- 
bott, introduction to the Essays.) 

Bacon seems to have been several times in disgrace with his 
relations and others for not sufliciently cultivating the courtly sub- 
servience which was required in those days. See his letter to 
his uncle and aunt, Lord and Lady Burghley, who have 
reproached him with this. (Spedding, L. L. i. 12-59, and Sped- 
ding's Evenings with a Reviewer, i. 69.) 

Intriguing, selfish, money-loving — Hunting after place and 

power from vanity and ambition. 

" The boldest andmost useful of innovators . . . the most obsti- 
nate champion of the foulest abuses ... a heart set on things 
which no man ought to suffer to be necessary to his happiness, 
on things which can be obtained only by the sacrifice of integ- 
rity and honour. ... All availed him nothing, while some quib- 
bling special pleader was promoted before him to the bench, 
while some heavy country gentleman took precedence of him, 
by virtue of a purchased coronet, . . . could obtain a more cor- 
dial salute from Buckingham; or while some bufibon, versed in all 
the latest scandal of the court, could draw a louder laugh from 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 55 

James. " (Macaulay, 336, 317, 429; Campbell, pp. 3, 5, 25, etc.; 
Sortaine, 93, etc.) 

Generous, open-hearted — Begardless of money, place or pomp, 

for their oivn saJxCS. 

" I will hereafter write to your lordship what I think of that 
supply; to the end that you may, as you have begun, to your 
groc^t honour, despise money where it crosseth reason of state or 
virtue. " (Francis Bacon to Villiers, Nov. 29, 1616.) i 

" Money is like muck — not good except it be spread. " (Essay 
of Seditions. See Essays, Riches, Expense, etc.) 

" To his easyhberality in the spending, was added a careless- 
ness in the keeping, which would be hardly credible, " etc. (See 
Spedding, L. L. vii. 563, etc.) 

Basil Montagu, Prof. Fowler, Hepworth Dixon, Storr, all 
bear the same witness. 

'' He was most desirous to obtain a provision which might 
enable him to devote himself to Uterature and politics. . . . His 
wishes were moderate." (Maeaulay, 298.) 

He strove for money, position, etc., that by their means he 
might advance learning, science, and religion. (Anthony Bacon's 
correspondence. Dr. Rawley, Basil Montagu, Spedding, Fowler, 
Craik, Abbott, Wigston, etc.) 

'' Having all the thoughts of that large heart of his set upon 
adorning the age in which he lives, and benefiting, as far as pos- 
sible, the whole human race." (Sir T. Matthew's preface to an 
Italian translation of the Essays.) 

He teas successful in his endeavours after loealth and place. 

" During a long course of years Bacon's unworthy ambition 
was crowned with success. ... He was elated if not Intoxicated 
by greatness." (Macaulay, 336, 347, etc.) "Bacon deliber- 
ately sat down to build his fortunes . . . and, as we shall see, 
succeeded." The truth is, admiration for place and power had 
dazzled his intellect and confounded his judgment. (Dr. Ab- 
bott's introduction to Essays.) 

1 Comparo Coriolauns, ii. 2. Mouey or wealth " the rrrnck of the world." 



50 FRANCIS BACON 

He was singularly unsuccessful — There must have been some 
unexplained cause which kept him hack. 

" He stood loug at a stay in the days of his mistress Eliza- 
beth." (Dr. Rawley, Life.) *' But though Bacon's reputation 
rose, his fortunes were still depressed. He was still in great 
pecuniary difficulties. " (Macaulay, 309. ) "Countenance, en- 
courage and advance men in all kinds, degrees and professions, 
for in the time of the Cecils, the father and the son, able men 
were, by design, and of purpose, suppressed." (Letter from 
Bacon to Villiers ; see, also, Dr. Church's Bacon, pp. 33, 58-9, 
100.) 

He married for money. 

" He made a bold attempt to restore his position by matri- 
mony. Instead of offering incense to Venus he was considering 
a scheme to make his pot boil." (Campbell, Bacon, p. 40.) 
" He had some thoughts of making his fortune by marriage. . . . 
Bacon was disposed to overlook her faults for the sake of her 
ample fortune. " (Macaulay, 310.) " Just at this period he was 
offering his heart to the daughter of a rich alderman. " (Devey's 
ed. of Essays, introduction, xix.) 

He married a lady on whom he settled double the amount of her 

dowry. 

(See Carleton to Chamberlain, May 11, 1606 ; Spedding's L. 
L. i. 8 ; Hepworth Dixon's Story of Bacon's Life, pp. 218, 219, 
and same in Personal Life ; Bacon's Will, Dec. 19tb, 1621.) 

His patient, conciliating, pliable nature blamed as weakness 
and servility. 

*' He bore with a patience and serenity which, we fear, bor- 
dered on meanness, the morose humours of his uncle . . . the 
sneering reflections . . . cast on him " [as a " speculative " 
man]. (Macaulay, p. 301.) 

" There was in Bacon an invariable pliancy, in the presence of 
great persons, which disqualified him for the task of giving wise 
and effectual counsel. In part this obsequiousness arose from his 



AND HIS SECBET SOCIETY. 57 

mental and moral constitution, in part it was a habit deliberately 
adopted, as one among many means by which a man may make his 
way in the world . . . thathemust 'avoid repulse.' " (Abbott, 
Life of Bacon, p. 21. Compare the passage quoted before on 
Bacon as " no flatterer " from the same author's introduction to 
the Essays.) 

His patient, conciliating, pliable nature praised as excellent and 

admirable. 

*' A man most sweet in his conversation and ways; an enemy 
to no man." ' (Sir Tobie Matthew's character of Bacon.) 

'' He was no dashing man, . . . but ever a countenancer and 
fosterer of other men's parts. ... He contemned no man's 
observations, but would light his candle at every man's torch." 
(Dr. Rawley's character of Bacon.) 

" Retiring, nervous, sensitive, unconventional, modest, " etc. 
(Spedding, L. L. vii. 567-8.) 

" The habit of self-assertion was not at his command. . . . 
When a man who is naturally modest attempts to put on the air 
of audacity, he only makes himself offensive. The pliancy or 
submissive attitude toward his official superiors ... is generally 
blamed in him as an unworthy condescension, . . . but I am not 
so sure that he would have acknowledged it as a fault. As the 
world was in Bacon's time, and as it still is, if you want a man 
to help you in your work, you must beware of affronting him, 
and must show him the respect to which he thinks himself 
entitled." (27^.368-9.) 

His faith in his own cause, his self-confidence, and his sanguine, 

hopcfid spirit, blamed as arrogance and pride. 

" To an application to his uncle, Lord Burleigh, to entitle him 
to come within bars," " he received a churlish answer; the' old 
Lord taking the opportunity to read Francis a sharp lecture 
on his Uirrogancy and overweening.'^^ (Campbell, 15; and 
Macaulay, 301.) 

Campbell, throughout his " Life of Bacon, "clings to the " evil 
opinion of them that do misaffect " Bacon, and treats his natural 



58 FRANCIS BACON 

gentleness as mere hyprocrisy. " A touch of vanity, even, is to 
be found in this composition^ a quality he hardly ever betrays 
elsewhere, althoughhehad an inward consciousnessofhisextraor- 
dinary powers. Boasting of his great influence, etc., ... in 
three days Bacon was obliged hypocritically to write," etc. . . . 
" The following is Bacon's toasZ/w^ account, " etc. (Campbell's 
Bacon, pp. Ill, 152.) 

" Bacon's overweening self-confidence, " etc. (Storr, Essays, 
Introd.) 

His self-confidence, fixed purposes, and hopeful spirit praised. 

" I find that such persons as are of nature bashful as myself 
is . . . are often mistaken for proud. But I know well . . . that 
arrogaucy and overweening is so far from my nature, as if I 
think well of myself in anything, it is this, that I am free from 
that vice." (Reply by F. B. to Ld. B.'s letter.) 

" A hopeful, sensitive, bashful, amiable boy . . . glowing with 
noble asph-ations. " (Spedding, L, L. i. 6.) 

" Even as a philosopher ... he thought that he had struck Into 
the right path by accident, and that his merit lay in endeavouring 
to keep in it. The qualities for which he gave himself credit were 
only patience and faith, and love of truth, carrying ivith it con- 
fidence in the power of truth. . . . Bacon had by nature a large 
faculty of hope; but it was hope from things that lay out of and 
beyond himself; ... he attached little importance to himself ex- 
cept as an instrument for their accomplishment. No correct 
notion can be formed of Bacon's character till this suspicion of 
self-conceit is scattered to the winds." (Abbott, introduction 
to Essays, xxxvi.) (i7>. vn. 568.) 

Averse to details. 

"A nature indifi"erent to details." (Abbott, int. to Essays, 
xix.) 

" Lord Macaulay speaks in admiration of the versatility of 
Bacon's mind as equally well adapted for exploring the heights 
of philosophy, or for the minute inspection of the pettiest detail. 
But he has been imposed upon by Bacon's parade of detail,'^ etc 
{lb. Ixxsvii.) 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 59 

Careful about details. 

" The secret of Bacon's proficiency was that, in the smallest 
matters, no less than in the greatest, he tooli a great deal of pains. " 
(Spedding, Works, vii. 197.) See the evidence of this in Bacon's 
Promus of Formularies and Elegancies, his collections of Prov- 
erbs and Quotations, the Sylva Sylvarum, the History of Winds, 
and other collections of minute particulars and jottings. See, 
also, an excellent page in Macaulay's Essay, 417. 

Without elevation of sentiment — His philosophy low and utili- 
tarian. 

" The moral qualities of Bacon were not of a high order. We 
do not say that he was a bad man; ... his faults were . . . 
coldness of heart, and meanness of spirit. He seems to have 
been incapable of feeling strong affectiou, of facing great dan- 
gers, of making great sacrifices. His desires were set on things 
below," etc. (Macaulay, pp. 320-327, etc.) 

" There is nothing that savours of the divine in Bacon's 
philosophy; ... it began in observation, and ending in arts; 
... a low object." (See lb. 373-396.) 

Lofty in sentiment — Truly great. 

"Greatness he could not want." (Ben Jous^n, Dominus 
Verulamius.) 

" That mind lofty and discursive ... as a politician no less 
grand and lofty in theory, than as a philosopher." (Dr. Abbott, 
int. to Essays.) 

" In his magnificent day-dreams there was nothing wild; . . . 
he loved to picture to himself the world. . . . Cowley, in one of 
his finest poems, compared Bacon to Moses standing on Mount 
Pisgah, . . . the great lawgiver looking round from his lonely 
elevation on an infinite expanse," etc. (Macaulay, 423, 429.) 

Commenting on Bacon's observation that " assuredly the very 
contemplation of things ... is more worthy than the fruits of 
inventions," etc. (Nov. Org. i. 129), Spedding says, in a foot- 
note to the Latin edition: " This is one of the passages which 
show how far Bacon was from what is now called cV utili- 
tarian." (Spedding's Works, i. 222.) 



60 FRANCIS BACON 

His statements about himself not to be credited. 

" We have this account only from himself, and it is to be re- 
garded with great suspicion." (Campbell, p. 53.) 

His statements, even against himself, always candid and ac- 
curate. 

" Never was a man franker in committing to paper his defects 
and infirmities. " (Abbott, Francis Bacon, p. 317.) Dr. Abbott 
enters at some length into Bacon's " habit of thinking with a 
pen in his hand," and reviews the Essays as being document- 
ary evidence of Bacon's own mental experiences. " Perhaps no 
man ever made such a confidant of paper as he did, " and, note, 
he compares him to Montaigne. (See Essays, pp. xvii-xxi.) 

He was cold, calculating, without any strong affections or feel- 
ings. 

'' His fault . . . coldness of heart . . . not malignant, but 
wanted warmth of aftectiou and elevation of sentiment." 
(Macaulay, p. 321.) " It was as the ministers or tools of science 
that Bacon regarded his friends ; ... it was an affection of a 
subdued kind, kept well under control, and duly subordinated 
to the interests of the Kingdom of Man. Bacon could not 
easily love friends or hate enemies, though he himself was loved 
by many of his inferiors with the true love of friendship. ... He 
liked almost everybody with whom he was brought into close 
intercourse, . . . but he loved and could loue no one.''^ (Abbott's 
int. to Essays, xsviii.) "Instinct and emotion were in him 
uuduly subordinated to reason. ... No one of ordinary moral 
instinct would accept Bacon's oft-repeated precept of Bias — 
' Love as if you were sometime to hate, and hate as if you were 
sometime to love.' " (Abbott's Francis Bacon, 326.) 

Affectionate — A firm friend — Peculiarly sensitive to kindnesses. 

" But little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it 
extendeth ; for a crowd is not company, and faces are but a 
gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal where there 
is no love; ... it is a mere and miserable solitude to want true 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 61 

friends, without which the world is but a wiUleniess. . . . Who- 
soever, iu the frame of his nature and affections, is unfit for 
friendship, he talcoth it of the beast, and not from humanity. 
... It was a sparing speech of the ancients to say that a friend 
is another himself, for that a friend is far more than himself, " etc. 
(Bacon's Ess. of Frieadship.) B.icon places the love of friends, 
or trae sympathy of souls, far above the mere love or passion of 
" the Ancient Cupid. " The " more close sympathy of the younger 
Cupid" . . . depends upon deeper, more necessitating and more 
uncontrollable principles, as if they proceeded from the Ancient 
Cupid, on whom all exquisite sympathies depend." (Wisdom of 
the Ancient Cupid.) " A very seusitive man, who felt acutely 
both kindness and uukindness. " (Spedding, L. L. vii. 567.) 

A faithless, time-serving friend — Ungrateful. (Chiefly regard- 
ing Essex.) 

" The person on whom, during the decline of [Essex's] influ- 
ence, he chiefly depended, to whom he confided his perplexities, 
. . . whose intercession he employed, was his friend Bacon. 
. . . This friend, so loved. So trusted, bore a principal part in 
ruining the Earl's fortunes, in shedding his blood, and in black- 
ening his memory. But let us be just to Bacon; . . . to the last 
he had no wish to injure Essex. Nay, we believe that he sin- 
cerely exerted himself to save Essex, as long as he thought that 
he could serve Essex ivithout injuring himself^' etc. (Macau- 
lay, p. 311.) This miserable view, exhibiting Francis Bacon as 
an utterly selfish creature, is repeated by Campbell and others. 

" No one who reads his anxious letters about preferment and 
the Queen's favour, about his disappointed hopes, about his strait- 
ened means aud distress for money, . . . can doubt that the 
question was between his own prospects and his friend; and 
that to his own interest he sacrificed his friend and his own 
honour." (Dr. Church, Bacon, p. 57.) 

See also Dr. Abbott's Francis Bacon, p. 277, of Yelverton's 
trial : " Bacon's behaviour was peculiarly cold-blooded and un- 
grateful." 



62 FRANCIS BACON 

'■^ A friend unalterable to his friends.'''' (Sir Tobie Matthew's 

character of Bacon. ) 

No man knew better, or felt more deeply, the duties of friend- 
ship, (Basil Montagu.) 

See also the whole subject argued in Spedding's Evenings with 
a Bevieiver, vol. i., and Letters and Life, i. 104-106, 250-254, 
295, 370-375; ii. 69-105, 123-102, 105, 367. 

" The fictitious biography paints him as bound by the sacred 
ties of gratitude and affection to the Earl of Essex, who, after 
striving, iu the most disinterested spirit, to procure for him a 
great office and a wealthy wife, had, failing in these efforts, gen- 
erously bestowed upon him Twickenham Park; as helping and 
advising that Earl, so long as he could do it safely and with 
profit, but as going over to his enemies when the hour of danger 
came; and when the Earl's rash enterprise gave those enemies a 
legal advantage over him, as straining his utmost skill as an 
advocate and a writer, to take away the life and to damn the 
memory of a noble and confiding friend. A plain story of the 
times will show that the connexion of Bacon with Essex was 
one of politics and business; that this connexion was in the high- 
est degree injurious to Bacon and to Bacon's family; that Essex 
caused him to lose for fourteen years the post of Solicitor; that 
Twickenham Park had never been the property of Essex, and 
was not given by him to Bacon; that the connexion between 
them ceased with Essex's own acts; . . . that 'the rash enterprise' 
for which Essex suffered on the block was treason of so black a 
shade, — so odious in the conception, so revolting in the details, 
as to arm against him every honest man; . . . that, while Essex 
was yet free from overt and unpardonable crimes. Bacon went 
beyond the extremest bounds of chivalry to save him. That in 
acting against Essex, when Essex had stained his hands with 
blood and his soul with treason. Bacon did no more than he was 
bound to do as a public man; that, though he could not save 
the guilty chief, he strove, and not in vain, to rescue from the 
gallows his misled accomplices; firally, that to the generous 
suppressions of the State Paper, which he drew up under her 
Majesty's command, was due the fact that Essex's name should 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 63 

be pronounced witnout a curse, and that his son could one day 
ho restored in blood." (Hepworth Dixon, Story, i. 6. See 
the same book, pp. 46-186.) 

Unloved as he tvas unloving, he had but few friends and ivas 

little reverenced. 

This is the impression conveyed by most of Bacon's anti- 
pathetic biographers — a view of his character which Dr. Abbo:;t 
tries hard to reconcile with " the spirit of genuine affection which 
breathes " through the records ofhisfriends and contemporaries, 
and, we may add, through all the letters which refer to him, 
written to him or of him, where his personal relations with inti- 
mate friends and acqLuaiatances are touched upon. (See infra.) It 
is difacult, sometimes, to decide whether to place the criticisms 
upon Bacon's character on the side of the goats or of the sheep. 
They are often so self-contradictory and neutralising that the 
writers appear to be writing against their own convictions — 
rejecting the evidence patent and unchallenged of eye-witnesses, 
in favour of theories and personal antipathies found long after 
their great subject had passed away. As to forming a judgment 
upon detached expressions, notes or sentiments, culled from 
Bacon's works with a special purpose, and with special glosses 
attached, to suit certain theories, we protest that no author's pri- 
vate character can be rightly so judged; and with regard to 
Bacon, in particular, passages to prove the exact opposite to 
everything so advanced could be produced. 

^^ All who were good and great loved and honoured him." (John 

Aubrey.) 

" My conceit of his person was never increased towards him by 
his place or honours; but I have and do reverence him for the 
greatness that was only proper to himself, in that he seemed to 
me ever, by his work, one of the greatest of men, and most 
worthy of admiration, that hath been in many ages. In his 
adversity I ever prayed God would give him strength, for great- 
ness he could not want. Neither could I condole a word or 
syllable for him, as knowing no accident can happen to virtue, 



64 FRANCIS BACON 

but rather help to make it manifest. " (Ben Jonson, Dominus 
Verulam ius. ) 

The same is echoed by Dr. Rawley, Osborne, Peter Boener, 
and Sir Tobie Matthew, all personal friends. (See Spedding, 
L. L. vii. 576; Hepworth Dixon, Story, 482, etc.) 

The following rather grinding version is from a usually hostile 
critic of Francis Bacon: "Bacon's better traits have to be in- 
ferred from the brief testimony of one or two of his most 
intimate friends, whose disinterested eulogies, after his disgrace 
and death, prove that, to them, at least, he seemed not only 
genial, kindly, and affectionate, but also a bright example of 
lofty virtue. There seems something in the nature of a problem 
in the contradiction between Bacon as he appeared to his 
friends, and Bacon as he appears to us. i We have noted 
already the spirit of genuine affection which breathes through 
the short memoir of him written by his chaplain, Rawley. His 
domestic apothecary and secretary, Peter Boener, expresses a 
wish that a statue of him may be erected, not for his learning 
and researches, but 'as a memorable example to all of virtue, 
kindness, peacefulness, and patience.' Ben Jonson speaks in the 
same strain of his 'virtue.' . . . To the same effect writes Sir Tobie 
Matthew, one of his most intimate friends, who was in the secret 
of his philosophic projects, and to whom he dedicated his 
Essaif on Friendship. ' It is not his greatness that I admire, 
but his virtue. It is not the favours that I have received of 
him that have enthralled and enchained my heart, but his 
whole life and character; which are such that, if he were of an 
inferior condition, I could not honour him the less, and if he 
were mine enemy, I could not the less love, and endeavour to 
serve him.' Wi<"h all his faults . . . neither his formal works nor 
his private letters convey more than a fraction of the singular 
charm with which his suavity of manner and gracious dignity 
fascinated his contemporaries and riveted the affections of some 

1 This must depend iipon who the "us," the modern reporter and critic, 
may be. The "us" at present writing sees nothing inharmonious in the char- 
acter of Bacon, but "we" do perceive that, as a rule, very little is known of his 
real life and character, and that accounts of him have been intentionally "dis- 
guised and veiled" 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 65 

whom it must have been liardest to deceive. . . . His enthusiasm 
for truth in Nature ennobled his intercourse with his associates, 
and placed them on a footing of such cordial fellowship with 
his brother workers that he really loved them. At least it is 
certain that he made them love him." (Abbott, Francis Bacon, 
319, 33, etc.) 

His cruelty — Want of feeling for animals — Vivisection. 

" He seems to have no liking for birds or beasts, wild or tame. 
The torture of a long-billed fowl by a ivaggish Christian, who 
called down on himself the resentment of the Turks by his 
cruelty, inspires him with no deeper feeling than amuse- 
ment." (See the passage quoted below, of which this is the ex- 
position, in the introduction to Dr. Abbott's edition of the Es- 
says.) 

" The restrictions on aviaries have been treated as an indication 
that Bacon had a strong love for animals; but it would seem he 
did not object to cages, provided the ivant of 'nestling' and 
'foulness' do not obtrude themselves on the spectator." (Abbott, 
notes to Ess. of Gardens.) 

" While condemning vivisection of men, he assumes its law- 
fulness when applied to animals, without restriction or justifica- 
tion. " (Abbott, notes to Ess. of Goodness.) 

Macaulay, Campbell, and others, charge Bacon with aiding 
and abetting the torturing of Peacham. 

His kindness and tenderness of heart — Love of animals, floiv- 

ers — Vivisection. 

Bacon is showing that " The inclination to goodness is im- 
printed deeply in the nature of man; insomuch that, if it issue not 
towards men, it will take unto other living creatures: as it is 
seen in the Turks, a cruel people, who nevertheless are kind to 
beasts, and give alms to dogs and birds; insomuch, as Bus- 
bechius reporteth, a Christian boy in Constantinople had like 
to liave been stoned for gagging, in a waggishness, a long-billed 
fowl. " (Essay of Goodness and Goodness of Nature.) 

" I love the birds as the French king doth. " (Spedding, L. L. 
V. 444. Bacon's Notes.) 



GO FRANCIS BACON 

" In his face a thought foi- the bird on the tree, the insect on 
the stream, ... he pursued his studies, sniffing at a flower or 
listening to a bird. In the bright country air, among his books, 
flsh, flowers, collections, and experiments, with his horse, his 
dog, Bacon slowly regained some part of his lost health. " 

" Sure, yet subtle, were the tests by which Bacon judged of 
m^n. Seeing Winwood strike a dog for having leaped upon a 
stool, he very justly set him down as of ungentle nature. 'Every 
gentleman,' he said loudly, 'loves a dog.'" (H. Dixon, Story, 
pp. 23, 29, 331.) 

" And now," in Bacon's account, " we see the lover of birds 
and fowls : 

" To the washerwomaa for sending after the crane that flew into the Thames, 
five shillings. 

" The Lord Chancellor was as fond of birds as of dress, and 
he built in the gardens of York House a magnificent aviary at a 
cost of three hundred pounds. From this aviary the poor crane 
had flown into the Thames," etc. {lb. p. 355.) 

" Then, again, the accounts make visible, as he lived in the 
flesh, the tender and compassionate man." {lb. 355-357.) 

" He was not inhuman or tyrannical." (Macaulay, 320.) 

" For aviaries. Hike them not, except they be of that largeness 
as theu may be turfed, and have living plants and bushes set in 
them, that the birds may have more scope and natural nestling, 
and that no foulness appear on the floor of the aviary.''^ (Ess. of 
Gardens.) 

In the Neio Atlantis the Father of Solomon's House (who- had 
" an aspect as though he pitied men^^) is explaining the " prepa- 
rations and instruments" for study and experiment at the 
" House. " " We have, " he says, " also parks and inclosures for 
all sorts of beasts and birds ; which we use not only for view or 
rareness, but likewise for dissections and trials, that thereby 
we may take light what may be wrought upon the body of man ; 
wherein we find many strange effects : as continuing life in them, 
though divers parts which you account vital be perished and 
taken forth; resuscitating of some that seem dead in appear- 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 67 

ance, and the like. We try also poisons and other medicines 
upon them, as well as surgery and physic." {New Atlantis.) 

" Of that other defect in anatomy, that it has not been prac- 
tised on human bodies, what need to speak? For it is a thing 
hateful and inhuman, and has been justly reproved by Celsus. . . . 
Wherefore, that utility may be considered, as ivell as humanity, 
the anatomy of the living subject . . . may tvell be discharged by 
beasts alive," etc. {De Aug. iv. 2.) 

Montagu, Spedding, Abbott, Anton, and others, show that 
Bacon was in no way responsible for the torturing of Peacham. 

He did not study human nature. 

" Human nature and the human passions were not sciences in 
which Bacon was versed. He wanted that pliancy and con- 
genial feeling which identifies itself with the pains and pleas- 
ures, the cares and solicitudes, the frailties and imperfections, 
whims and caprices, symp ithies, passions, emotions, and affec- 
tions which variously agitate and disturb, rouse and irritate, 
terrify and calm, enrapture, moderate, suspend, and enchain all 
the faculties of our nature, and all the cravings and desires of 
the human heart — for it is only in the delineation of the heart 
and its affections that we can expect to discover the soul and 
spirit of poetry." (Ess. by S, N. Carvalho, in New York 
Herald, Oct. 5, 1874.) 

He ivas a profound student of human nature. 

" So, then, the first article of this knowledge is to set down 
sound and true distributions and descriptions of the several 
characters and tempers of men's natures and dispositions, 
specially having regard to those differences which are most rad- 
ical in being the fountains and causes of the rest, " etc. " I can- 
not sufficiently marvel that this part of knowledge, touching the 
several characters of natures and dispositions, should be omitted 
both in morality and policy, considering it is of so great minis- 
tery and suppeditation to them both. {Advancement of Learn- 
ing, ii.; Spedding, Works, iii. pp. 432-i73.) See, also, Dz Aug- 
mentis, viii. 2 — "of procuring information of persons; their 



68 FRANCIS BACON 

natures, their desires and ends, tlieir customs and fashions, their 
helps and advantages," etc., etc. (Spedding, Works, v. pp. 59-78.) 

See " The Essays, " which, Bacon says, " of all my other works 
have been most current; for that, as it seems, they come home 
to men's business and bosoms." They are all, more or less, 
studies of human nature and character. 

See, also, " Experiments touching the impressions which the 
passions of the mind make upon the body." (Si/Ira Sz/lvarum, 
cent. viii. 713-722), and of the effect of mind on body, and 
body on mind, etc. 

" His style, ... for the most part, describes men's minds as 
well as pictures do their bodies: so it did his above all men 
living. The course of it is vigorous aud majestical ... in 
all expressing a soul equally skilled in men and nature." 

(See A Character of the Lord Bacon — Dr. Sprat's History of the 
Royal Society, part I. sec. 16, pages 35-36.) 

See, also, Cowley's poem on Bacon, addressed to the Royal 
Society, for evidence that Bacon painted human nature " to the 
life." 

Wanting in boldness and independence of character. 

" He had no political back-bone, no power of adhering to his 
convictions and pressing them on unwilling ears. " 

" Young or old, from twenty to sixty, he was always the same; 
. . . from the beginning to the end of his career his wiser coun- 
sels were neglected, and he was little better than an instrument 
in the hands of the unwise." (Abbott, Francis Bacon, p. 22.) 

" He had no moral courage, and no power of self-sacrifice or 
self-denial." (Campbell, Bacon, p. 220.) 

A patriot — Politically hold and independent in matters ivhich 

he esteemed important. 

" It is creditable alike to his statesmanship and to his inde- 
pendence of character that, at a time when all deviations from 
the forms of the prayer-book were known to ba distasteful to 
the Queen, Bacon should have pleaded for elasticity, and that 
'the contentious retention of custom is a turbulent thing.' " 
(Abbott, Francis Bacon, p. 26. ) 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 69 

" Bacon, who now sat for Middlesex, barred his own path by 
a speech in the House of Commons . . . upon subsidies, which 
he considered too burdensome for a people overlaid with taxes. 
... It was, therefore, in entire good faith that Bacon protested 
against the subsidies, declaring that the gentlemen must sell 
their plate and the farmers their brass pots before this should 
be paid. The House was unanimously against him. . . . But 
the speech, though made in manifest sincerity, did not, on that 
account, conciliate the Queen; and Bacon's conscientious opposi- 
«/o« brought on him the penaltyof exclusion from the royal pres- 
ence." (i^. p. 35.) 

" Bacon's fame as a patriot was fixed in these transactions. 
The breadth of his views, the comprehensiveness of his politics, 
the solidity of his understanding were observed by his contempor- 
aries." (Hepworth Dixon, Story, p. 37.) 

" The House had not sat a week . . . before he hinted at his 
scheme for amending the whole body of English law. . . 
Reform the code! Bacon tells a House full of Queen's Serjeants 
and utter barristers that laws are made to guard the rights of 
the people, not to feed the lawyers. ... So runs his speech . . . 
a noble thought ... a plan developed in his maxims of the law 
. . . universally read . . . the Code Napoleon is the sole embodi- 
ment of Bacon's thought. Ten days later he gave a check to 
the government, which brought down on his head the censures 
of Burghley and Puckering, which are said to have represented 

the personal anger of the Queen Burghley asked the Peers to 

confer on a grant of money for the Queen's service, and Cecil 
reported to the Commons that the Peers had decided for them 
what they were to give. . . . Who rose to warn the minister of 
this grave mistake? . . . Bacon stood up. A i^vf clear words 
declared that . . . to give was the prerogative of the people — to 
dictate what they should give was not the daty of the Peers. " 
{lb. 65-66.) 

Bacon compared unfavourably with Coke. 

Bacon as Attorney-General " holding up to posterity for ever 
the contrast between his courtier-hke serviUty, and Coke's 
manly mdependence." (Abbott, int. to Essays, Ivi.) 



70 FRANCIS BACON 

Bacon compared favourably tvith Coke. 

" Some of the judges, and amongst them Egerton, wished to 
make Bacon Attorney-General, for the great common-lawyer, if 
a giant in legal erudition, had the manners of a bully, and the 
spirit of a slave. In the long succession of English judges, it is 
doubtful whether any one has left on the bench so distinct an 
impression of having been a cold, harsh, brawling, ungenerous 
man as Coke," etc., etc. (H.^pworth Dixon, 79-80.) 

" Wanting the warmth of heart, the large round of sympathies, 
which enabled his rival at the bar to see into political questions 
with the eye of a poet and a statesman, Coke could only treat a 
constituted court as a thing of words, dates, readings, and 
decisions, not as a living fact in close relation to other living 
facts, and having in itself the germs of growth and change." 
{lb. 231.) See Sped ding, Let. and Life, i. 232. 

An inequitable judge — His judgments questioned. 

" Unhappily he was employed in perverting laws to the vilest 
purposes of tyranny. " (Macaulay, 330.) 

" He did worse than nothing in politics. He degraded him- 
self, he injured his country and posterity by tarnishing the hon- 
ourable traditions of the bench." (Abbott, int. to Essays, 
xcvi. And see, by the same, " Francis Bacon, " pp. xx, xxi, xxix.) 

An equitable judge — His judgments neither questioned nor 
reversed. 

" His favourites took bribes, but his Lordship always gave 
judgment secundum cequum et bonum. His decrees in chancery 
stand firme; there are fewer of his decrees reverst than of any 
other Chancellor." (John Aubrey, Sped. L. L. vii. 557.) 

" A most indefatigable servant to the King, and a most 
earnest lover of the public. " (Sir Tobie Matthew.) 

" Bacon was the first of a new order of public men. . . . Bad men 
kill offices and good men found them. " (See Hepworth Dixon's 
Story, p. 210, etc. See also Lord Chief Justice Hale on the 
Jurisdiction of the Lords' House, 1716.) 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 71 

Apologises abjectly to the Queen about Ms speech on the subsidy. 

" Tlie young patriot condescended to make the most abject apolo- 
gies; . . . hebemoanedhimself to the Lord Keeper, in a letter which 
may keep in countenance the most unmanly of tlie epistles which 
Cicero wrote during his banishment. The lesson was not thrown 
away. Bacon never offended in the same manner again. " (Ma- 
caulay, Essays, pp. 303-4.) 

" The Queen was deeply incensed, and desired it to be inti- 
mated to the delinquent . . . that he must never look to her 
for favour or promotion. An eloquent eulogist says that * he 
heard them with the calmness of a philosopher,' but his ansivers 
show that he teas struck with repentance and remorse, and that, in 
the hope of obtaining pardon, he plainly intimated that he should 
never repeat the offence." (Campbell, p. 23.) 

" His compunction for his opposition to the subsidy. " {lb. 24.) 

Does not offer any apology to the Queen about his speech on the 
subsidy. 

The letter is extant and contains not a word of apology. 

" This letter is a justification and no apology. '^ (Spedding, L. 
L. i. 233.) 

" It is worthy of note that, among the many expressions of 
regret at the royal displeasure, there is no record of any apology 
tendered by Bacon for his speech." (Abbott, int. to Essays, i. 
xxix.) 

See also the polite but independent letter which Bacon wrote 
not long afterwards to the Queen herself, ignoring the obnoxious 
matter of the speech, and applying directly to be employed in 
the Queen's service. (Spedding, L. L. i. p. 240.) 

His speech charging Essex, and his connection with the trial, 
condemned as perfidious and unpardonable. 

" The lamentable truth must be told. This friend, so loved, 
so trusted, bore a j^rincipal part in ruining the EarPs fortunes, in 
shedding his blood, and in blackening his character," etc. (Ma- 
caulay's Essay.) 



72 FRANCIS BACON 

" To deprive him of all chance of mercy . . . Bacon com- 
pared him to the Duke of Guise. . , . The Queen wished a 
pamphlet to be written to prove that Essex was properly 
put to death, and she selected Francis Bacon to write it. He, 
without hesitation, undertook the task. . . . No honourable man 
ivould purchase Bacon's subsequent elevation at the price of being 
the author of this publication,^^ etc. (Campbell, p. 64.) 

His speech charging Essex commended as lenient — His con- 
ducting of the trial explained as being obligatory; an official 
duty, etc. 

Basil Montagu. Spedding, ii. 367. 

" Bacon closed the case in an eloquent and memorable speech. 
His own relations with the Earl of Esses, he said, were at an end. 
Yet, in spite of this avowal, he spoke as the EarTs advocate, rather 
than as the Queen's; charging him with hasty expressions, but 
distinctly freeing him from the charge of disloyalty. Bacon's speech 
at York House saved Essex in his fortunes and his fame. " (Hep- 
worth Dixon's Story of Bacon, p. 162, quoting from Chamber- 
lain to Carleton, July 1-26, 1600, Record Office ; Confessions of 
D. Hayward, July 11, 1600, R. 0, ; Abstract of Evidence against 
Essex, July 22, 1600; Examination of Thos. Wright, July 24, 
1600, R. 0. ; Moryson, pt. ii. 68 ; Sydney Papers, ii. 200 ; and 
see Personal Life.) 

*' Yet, even when it was made thus sternly and just by the 
Queen, the ' Declaration of the ijractises and treasons at- 
tempted committed by Robt. Devereux, late Earl of Essex, and 
his complices,' was, perhaps, the most gentle and moderate state 
paper ever published in any kingdom, '' etc. (Hepworth Dixon's 
Story, pp. 186-7 ; see, also, Prof. Fowler's Bacon, pp. 8, 9.) 

He incurred the indignation and contempt of his eontemporaries 
on account of the part which he took in Essex^s trial. 
" The base ingratitude and the slavish meanness manifested 
by Bacon on this occasion called forth the indignation of liis 
contemporaries. . . . For some time after Essex's execution, 
Bacon was looked upon with aversion, " etc. (Campbell, pp. 
66, 68.) 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 73 

" It is certain ttiat liis conduct excited great and general 
disapprobation." (Macaulay, p. 323.) 
" The multitude loudly condemned him." {lb. 325 and 326.) 

No indignation was exhibited against him on account of the 

part which he took in Essex's trial. He tvas now honoured more 

highly than before. 

" That the lofty and gentle course which Bacon pursued 
through these memorable events commanded the admiration of 
all his contemporaries, save a faction of the defeated band, is a 
fact of which the proofs are incontestible. ... If he were thought 
of with aversion, here were the means, the opportunities for 
condign revenge. . . . Did the friends of Lord Esses rise on his 
adversaries? Was the . . . stone flung at Bacon? Just the 
reverse. (Hepworth Dixon, " Story," p. 183.) 

" The world had not been with the rebellious Earl, either in 
his treason at Temple Bar or in his suffering at Tower Hill, and 
those who had strucli down the Papist plot were foremost in the 
ranks of the new Parliament. Four years ago Bacon had been 
chosen to represent Ipswich, and the chief town of Suffolk again 
ratified its choice. But his public acts now won for him a sec- 
ond constituency in St. Albans. Such a double return, always 
rare in the House of Commons, was the highest compliment that 
could be paid to his political life." (Hep. Dixon, " Story," p. 
183. See 184-5, of the Queen revising Bacon's " Declaration" 
as being too lenient to Essex: and notes, part iii. 149.) 

Struck to the earth by the discovery of his corruption — Confess- 
ing the truth of the charges brought against him — Treated as a 
degraded man. 

" Overwhelmed with shame and remorse." (Macaulay, p. 353.) 
Lord Campbell quotes passages from Bacon's letter to the 
King and Buckingham (where Bacon expresses his resolution to 
indulge in no excuses if he has " partaken of the abuses of the 
times " ) as a clear negative pregnant, admitting that the bribes 
had been received. (See Campbell's Bacon, p. 172.) 

See also his straightforward, modest appeal to the King, repudi- 
ating the idea that he had " the troubled fountain of a corrupt 



74 FRANCIS BACON 

heart in a depraved habit of taking rewards to pervert justice, 
. . . howsoever I be frail and partake of the abuses of the times. " 
Eesolving to defend nothing in himself, and praying God that 
" no hardness of heart steal upon me under show of more neatness 
of conscience than is cause. " (Montagu, Spedding, and others.) 

Overwhelmed with horror and surprise at the charges brought 
against him — Acknoivledges carelessness — Utterly repudiates 
the charge of bribery — Never shows any remorse for guilt, but 
even in his "prayer " regrets that he had wasted and misspent 
his life in trying to folloio the profession of the laiv and the 
pursuits of a politician, for tvhich by nature he teas least fit — 
Not treated as degraded, but as one ivho toould return to power. 

" The law of nature teaches me to speak in my own defence. 
With respect to this charge of bribery I am as innocent as any 
born upon St. Innocents' day. I never had bribe or reward in 
my eye or thought when pronouncing sentence or order." (B. 
Montagu, Works, v. 549.) 

Montagu, xii. 457-459; xvi. part ii. 426. See also Spedding's 
Evenings with a Reviewer, vol. ii. Abbott, Francis Bacon, pp. 
306, 320. Hepworth Dixon, " Story, " pp. 410-411, 412-4.17, 466, 
482; and "Personal Life." Council Registers, Dec. 30, 1617; 
Mar. 17-27, 1618; June 19, 1619; Jan. 20, 1620. Bacon Memo- 
randa, Lambeth MSS., 936, fol. 146. 

Without a sense of humour — Never made a pun or a quibble. 

" What is said by Dr. Rawley [see below] of Bacon's avoid- 
ance of all mere verbal conceits is true, and the fact merits 
especial attention as notably discriminating the wit of Bacon 
from that of every other English writer eminent for that quality 
in his age. Probably nothing resembling a pun, or any quib- 
ble of that class, is to be found in all that he has written." 
(Craik, i. 30.) 

" The idea of robbing the world of Shakespeare for such a stiff, 
legal-headed old jack-ass as Bacon, is a modern invention of 
fools." (Essay on " Tao Uaaiba^n^f Bacon," signed B. J. A., in 
the New York Herald, Oct. 5, 1874.) This extract is given as a 



AND HIS SECBET SOCIETY. 75 

good specimen of the kind of linowledge and criticism displayed 
by the press articles of this date. 

The most prodigious ivit that ever lived — Fond of quibbles — 

Could not pass by a jest. 

" His speech, when he could pass by a jest, was nobly censo- 
rious." (Ben Jonson, Dominus Verulamius.) 

Bacon's paradoxical manner of turning a sentence so as to 
read two ways has been the frequent subject of comment. A 
large number of puns and quibbles are to be found even in his 
graver works, and Ben Jonson's remark shows that, however 
much he might try to exclude these plays upon words from 
his writings, the habit of punning was so confirmed in him as to 
be, in Jonson's opinion, a disfigurement to his oratory. 

" The most prodigious wit that ever I knew ... is of your 
Lordship's name, albeit he is known by another. " (Sir Tobie 
Matthew, letter to Bacon.) 

Want of imagination of the higher type. 

** Of looks conversing with the skies, of beauty born of mur- 
muring sound that passes into the face, he takes no account. It 
is the exclusion of the higher type that leads him to doubt 
whether beauty is a hindrance or a help in running the race of 
life." (Storr of Ess. of Beauty.) 

" There is hardly a trace in Bacon of that transfusing and 
transforming imagination which creates a new heaven and a 
new earth; which reveals the elemental secrets of things, and 
thrills us with a shock of surprise and delight as a new revela- 
tion. . . . There is more of poetry in Browne's Hydriotapbia 
than of poetry in Bacon's collected works. Yet of poetry, in all 
but the strictest and highest sense of the word, Bacon is full. " 
(Storr, int. Ixxxiii. See below.) 

Imagination of the highest type. 

" Bacon, whose vast contemplative ends embraced the image 
of the universal world." (Storr.) 

" His life of mind was never exceeded, perhaps never equalled. 
The extent of his views was immense. . . . His powers were 



76 FRANCIS BACON 

varied and in great perfection, his senses exquisitely acute. . . . 
His imagination was most vivid and fruitful," etc., etc. (Basil 
Montagu, vol. xvi. 451-463.) 

" He was a man of strong, clear, and powerful imaginations. 
His genius was searching and inimitable, and of this I need give 
no other proof than his style itself, which, as for the most part 
it describes men's minds as well as pictures do their bodies : 
so it did his above all men living. The course of it is vigorous 
and majestical: the wit bold and familiar. The comparisons 
fetched out of the way, and yet the most easy : in all expressing 
a soul equally skilled in men and nature. ... He seems to take 
all that comes, and to heap together rather than to register. 
But I hope this accusation of mine can be no great injury to his 
memory ; seeing at the same time that I say he had not the 
strength of a thousand men. I do also allow him to have had 
as much as twenty." (See Character of Lord Bacon, by Dr. 
Sprat; History of the Royal Society, part I. sec. 16, pp. 35-36.) 

Highly poetical — Possessing every faculty and gift of the true 
poet. 

" It is he that filled up all numbers, and performed that which 
may be compared or preferred to insolent Greece or haughty 
Rome." (Ben Jonson.) 

" His Lordship was a good poet, but concealed, as appears by 
his letters." (John Aubrey.) 

The author of " The Great Assises Holden in Parnassus" 
ranks Lord Verulam next to Apollo. 

" The poetic faculty was strong in Bacon's mind. No im- 
agination was ever at once so strong and so subjugated. In 
truth, much of Bacon's life was passed in a visionary world 
. . . magnificent day-dreams . . . analogies of all sorts," etc., 
etc. (Macaulay.) 

" Few poets deal in finer imagery than is to be found in Bacon. 
. . . His prose is poetry. " (Campbell.) 

" The varieties and sprightliness of Bacon's imagination, an 
imagination piercing almost into futurity, conjectures improv- 
ing even to prophecy. . . . The greatest felicity of expression, 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 77 

and the most splendid imagery," etc., etc. (Basil Montagu.) 

" The Wisdom of the Ancients, . . a kind of parabolical 
poetry. The fables abounding with the deepest thought and 
beauty. ... To the Advancement of Learning he brings every 
species of poetry by which imagination can elevate the mind 
from the dungeon of the b xly to the enjoying of its own essence. 
. . . Metaphors, similitudes, and analogies make up a great part 
of his reasoning. . . . Ingenuity, poetic fancy, and the highest 
imagination and fertility cannot be denied hiiu." (Craik.) 

'' The creative fancy of a Dante or Milton never called up 
more gorgeous images than those suggested by Bacon, and we 
question much whether their worlds surpass his in affording 
scope for the imagination. His extended over all time. His 
mind brooded over all nature, . . . unfolding to the gaze of the 
spectator the order of the universe as exhibited to angelic in- 
telligences. " (Devey.) 

" The tendency of Bacon to see analogies ... is characteris- 
tic of him, the result of . . . that mind not truly philosophic, 
but truly poetic, which will find simihtudes everywhere in 
heaven and earth." (Dr. Abbott.) 

"He had the-liveUest fancy and most active imagination. 
But that he wanted the sense of poetic fitness and melody, he 
might be almost supposed, with his reach and play of thought, 
to have been capable, as is maintained in some eccentric mod- 
ern theories, of writing Shakespeare's plays. No man ever had a 
more imaginative power of illustration drawn from the most re- 
mote and most unlikely analogies ; analogies often of the quaint- 
est and mo^t unexpected kind, but often, also, not only felicitous 
in application, but profound and true." (Church, pp. 21, 22; 
see, also, pp. 19, 24, 173, 197, 200, 204, 217, 171, 201 ; and note 
that Dr. Church here gives Bacon every attribute of the poet 
excepting the power to write poetry.) 

" Gentle and susceptible in genius. . . . A mind susceptible of 
all impressions. . . . Trott, a lover of poetry and wit, advanced 
him money. ... As a bencher Bacon became the light and 
genius ... of Gray's Inn; . . . dressed the dumb show, led 



78 FRANCIS BACON 

'oft' the dances, inventeJ the masques; a genial and original 
nature." (Hepworth Dixon, Story, 21, 23, 33, etc.) 

" I infer from this sample that Bacon had all 'the natural 
faculties which a poet wants : a fine ear for metre, a fine feeling 
for imaginative effect in words, anJ" a vein of poetic passion. 
. . . The truth is that Bacon was not without the ' fine phrensy ' 
of a poet," etc. (Spedding, Works, vii. 267-272.) 

Sir Francis Bacon is also enumerated, by Edmund Howes, 
amongst a list of " Our modern and present excellent poets, 
which worthily flourish in their owne works; and who, accord- 
ing to their priorities as neere as I could, I have orderly set 
downe. " In this curious list Bacon stands eighth and Shake- 
speare fifteenth in order. 

See, also, Sir Tobie Matthew's account of Bacon's " sprout- 
ing invention;" his " ravishing way of words, metaphors, and 
allusions as perhaps the world hath not seen since it was a 
world;" his pre-eminence as the " Genius of England." 

See Halliwell Phillips's Outlines, p. 512. 

Dr. Fischer, of Heidelberg, endorses these opinions in his work 
on Bacon. 

He had little or no religion. 

" Bacon's zeal against persecution and intolerance arose prob- 
ably in no small measure from vagueness, uncertainty, or indif- 
ference in his own religious beliefs." (Fowler's Bacon, p. 185, 
and see p. 182.) 

" Ho was guarded by every sentinel but those of virtue and 
God's favour. . . . May we not humbly, but urgently, say, 
'Remember Lord B.icon' . . . whenever any effort or com- 
bination of human faculties awakes your admiration and 
applause. . . . Let such qualities be found in union with 'repent- 
ance toward God, and faith in our Lord Jesus Christ.' We 
cannot but believe that all that was low, . . . degrading, . . . 
treacherous, . . . subservient, . . . and dishonest ... in 
the life of Lord Bacon could never have blotted his noble 
escutcheon if he had walked humbly with his God, . . . with a 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 79 

confidence in G-od as a Father; . . . a jealousy for the honour of 
his Saviour, and an hourly reference ... to the guidance of 
the Holy Ghost," etc. (Life of Bacon, by the Rev. J. 
Sortaiii, 1790.) 

It is science that makes him in any sense a religious man — 
non-religious in conduct, etc. (Abbott, introd'n. to Essays, 
p. xl.) Many other writers and critics have adopted such views. 

He was truly religious. 

" This lord was religious; for though the world be apt to sus- 
pect and prejudge great wits and politiques to have somewhat 
of the atheist, yet he teas conversant ivlth God, as appeareth 
throughout the whole current of his writings. ... No man will 
deny him ... to have been a deep philosopher. And not only 
so, but he was able to render a reason for the hope which was in 
him, which that writing of his of the Confession of Faith doth . 
abundantly testify. He repaired frequently (when his health 
would permit him) to the services of the church to hear sermons, 
to the administration of the sacrament of the blessed body and 
blood of Christ; and died in the true faith, established in the 
Church of England. " (Dr. Rawley's Life of Bacon, 1670.) 

His toleration in religious matters Named. 

Bacon's toleration showed a fatal want of religious enthusiasm. 
(Storr, intn. to Essays.) 

His toleration applauded. 

We do not pretend that he ever became a violent partisan 
against the Church of Rome; . . . neither, on the other hand, 
was he an exclusive advocate for the_ Church of England in 
opposition to the Puritans. ... In the' whole range of ecclesi- 
astical history we can recall no one whose mind looked down 
upon church controversies with more anxious concern. His 
was not the latitudinarianism of indifference. . . . We should 
feel that we were performing a high duty to the Church of 
Christ, at the present times, to transcribe the whole of 



80 FRANCIS BACON 

Bacon's enlarged view of church controversies. ... In 
thus stating his comprehensiveness of charity, we must again 
add that it was most remote from indifferentism. " (Rev. J. Sor- 
tain.) This is the same author who shows in the same book {Life 
of Francis Bacon) that Bacon's weak point was want of religion 
and earnest faith. 

Amon'gst the many proofs of the intense admiration and 
affection, esteem and reverence, which Francis Bacon inspired 
in those who were personally intimate with him, none are more 
satisfactory than those contained in the voluminous, but still 
unpublished, correspondence of Anthony Bacon, in the library at 
Lambeth Palace. 

Here we find him spoken of as "Monsieur le Doux, " and 
" Signer Dolce; " his extreme kindness, sweetness of disposition 
and heavenly-mindedness being continual subjects of comment. 
His followers and disciples vow fidelity to him from simple love 
of him and his cause; they are willing to go through the great- 
est perils and sutTerings, as indeed we find them doing, in order 
to aid in the objects and plans which are most dear to him — 
the propagation of Christian truth and of a wide-spread and 
liberal education, i 

" For my name and memory, I leave it to men's charitable 
speeches, and to foreign nations and the next ages ; " or, as in 
another copy of his will, " and to mine own countrymen, after 
some time he past. ^^ 

These prophetic words seem now to be in process of fulfil- 
ment. Englishmen must regret that with " foreign nations" 
lies the honour of first and fully appreciating the genius 
of Francis Bacon, and of being the first willing or eager 
to hear, and to Investigate the claims which have been 
brought forward with regard to his authorship of the " Shake- 
speare Plays. " What Dr. Rawley said in 1657 is true even now: 
" His fame is greater and sounds louder in foreign parts abroad, 
than at home in his own nation ; thereby verifying that divine 

1 Tho following is reprinted from a little pamphlet published by the present 
writer in 1884. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 81 

sentence, A prophet is not without honour, save in his own coun- 
try and in his own house." Yet Bacon had a just confidence 
" in that old arbitrator. Time," and in the verdict of the " next 
ages. " He had assured himself, long before he made his will, 
that " the monuments of wit and learning are more durable than 
the monuments of power, or of the hands ; " that learning, " by 
which man ascendeth to the heavens, is immortal, " for " the 
images of men's wits and knowledges remain in books, exempted 
from the wrong of time, and capable of perpetual renovation. " 

We appeal to those into whose hands this outline of a great 
and wonderful life may fall, to lay aside prejudice acquired at 
second hand, and to study for themselves the life anl character 
of Francis Bacon, as displayed, not in any one or two question- 
able transactions, not from a few picked passages of his volumi- 
nous works, or in a few letters written under exceptional cir- 
cumstances, but as the characters and lives of other great 
men are studied, and as we humbler individuals would wish pos- 
terity to study and to judge our own. Let Bacon be judged by 
the whole general tenour of his life, and works, and letters; and 
by their influence on his contemporaries and on posterity for 
good or for evil. 

It has unhappily become habitual to Englishmen to criticise 
and represent this " glory of his age and nation" in such a man- 
ner that the few blemishes which dim that glory are magnified 
and intensified so as to obscure the picture itself. The result is 
that, perhaps, no other great man has been so much talked of, 
and so little generally known or understood, as Bacon. Prob- 
ably, also, there are few men of any kind of whom, whilst con- 
temporary biographers agree in recording so much that is great 
and good, writers of 150 years later date have delighted in 
ignoring the good, and in bringing to the front and dwelling 
upon every circumstance, or action, or word, which can admit 
of a base or evil interpretation. Rather let us consider ^rs^ his 
many great virtues, his amiability, gentleness, sweetness of tem- 
per, and consideration for others, his readiness to forgive injuries 
and to acknowledge any error in himself, his generosity and lib- 
erality as soon as he had any means at his disnosal, his magna- 



82 FRANCIS BACON 

nimity aud fortitude under calamity, his ardour in pursuit of truth, 
his endless perseverance and patience, (an acquired virtue, since 
he felt that by nature he was Impatient and over-zealous), his 
bright, hopeful spirit and large-hearted toleration, his modesty, 
and absence of self-importance or self-assertion. This last virtue 
has been held by his biographers to have been almost a weak- 
ness, and in pome respects a disadvantage to him, as well as to 
the world at large, since the pliancy of his disposition and the 
submissive attitude which he maintained toward his official supe- 
riors, and which were part of his nature, have been brought against 
him as proofs of" cringing" and" servility." Let us also remem- 
ber the threefold aims which he had set before him as the object of 
his life — " an object to live for as wide as humanity and as im- 
mortal as the human race; an idea vast and lofty enough to fill 
the soul for ever with religious and heroic aspirations. ... Of 
Bacon's life no man will ever form a correct idea unless he 
bear in mind that, from very early youth, his heart was divided 
between these three objects, distinct but not discordant — the 
cause of reformed religion, the cause of his Queen and country, 
and of the human race through all their generations."! 

If we also bear in mind that not only was he profoundly 
learned, laboriously hard-working, and painstaking in search 
of truth, but that he was intensely sensitive and highly imagin- 
ative; his mind, as he said, " nimble and versatile, quick to per- 
ceive analogies " (the poet's faculty), and ingenious in their 
application, we shall acknowledge that such a character is not 
one to be harshly judged in the portion of his carreer for which 
he repeatedly confesses himself" unfit, " as a lawyer and a chan- 
cellor. For our own sakes, for justice' sake, let us first contem- 
plate and know him at his best, as " the pioneer of truth," the 
"patriot born," the poet-philosopher, the man who wished to 
spend and be spent for the advancement of learning and the 
benefit of the human race. 

Theobald, in the preface to his edition of "Shakespeare," 
says kindly: " The genius that gives us the greatest pleasure 

1 Condensed from Spedding, L. L. i. 5. 



■AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 83 

sometimes stands in need of our iudulgeuce. Whenever this 
liappens with regard to Shaliespeare, I would willingly impute 
it to a vice in his times. " 

So said Bacon of himself (though it was never his manner to 
excuse himself): " This is all I can say for the present concern- 
ing my charge. . . I do not fiy to say that these things are 
vitia temporis, and not vitia hominis.^' Bat may not the same 
indulgence which has heen accorded to '' Shakespeare " be 
accorded equally to Bacon ? 

Of Shakespeare we know nothing creditable; he was vulgar, 
jovial, and money-loving. Of Bacon we have the testimony of 
contemporaries whose opinion is above all suspicion of interested 
motives, and we know that those who saw him nearest, and 
those who knew him longest, give him the best character. 

Sir Tobie Matthew, writing (1G18) to the Grand Duke of Tus- 
cany, gives some account of his career and position, and a de- 
scription of his immense intellectual powers. He goes on to say 
that the praise applies not only to the qualities of the intellect, 
but as well to those " which are rather of the heart, the will, and 
the moral virtue; being a man most sweet in his conversation 
and ways, grave in his judgments, invariable in his fortunes, 
splendid in his expenses; a friend unalterable to his friends; an 
enemy to no man; a most hearty and indefatigable servant to 
the King, and a most earnest lover of the public — having all 
the thoughts of that large heart of his set upon adorning the age 
in which he lives, and benefiting, as far as possible, the whole 
human race. " 

" And I can truly say,'' he adds, " having had the honour to 
know him for many years, as well when he was in his lesser for- 
tunes as now that he stands at the top and in the full flower of his 
greatness, that I never yet saw any trace in him of a vindictive 
mind, whatever injury were done him, nor ever heard him utter 
a word to any man's disadvantage which seemed to proceed from 
personal feeling against the man, but only (and that too very 
seldom) from judgment made of him in cold blood. It is not his 
greatness that I admire, but his virtue: it is not the favours I 
have received from him (infinite though they be) that have thus 



84 FRANCIS BACON 

enthralled and enchained my heart, hut his icliole life and char- 
acter; which are such that if he were of an inferior condition I 
could not honour him the less, and if he were mine enemy I 
should not the less lore and endeavour to serve him." 

Dr. Rawley's short Life of Bacon deals more with his circum- 
stances and works than with his character, yet his opinion is 
the same as Sir Tobie's. During his residence in Gray's Inn, 
Bacon " carried himself," says Dr. Eawley, " with such sweet- 
ness, comity, and generosity, that he was much revered and 
loved by the Eeaders and Gentlemen of the House " (or Inn). 
Again, " When his office called him, as he was the King's Coun- 
cil Learned, to charge any offenders, . . . he was never insulting 
or domineering over them, but always tender-hearted, and car- 
rying himself decently towards the parties (though it was his 
duty to charge them home), as one that looked upon the example 
with the eye of severity, but upon the person with the eye of 
pity and compassion. And in civil business, as he was Councillor 
of State, he had the best way of advising, . . . the King giving 
him this testimony, ' That he everdealt in business s^<a^;^&Msw^of7^■5, 
which was the way that was most according to his heart.' " 
Having borne testimony to his " prime and observable parts, 
. . . abilities which commonly go singly in other men, but 
which in him were conjoined" — sharpness of wit, memory, 
judgment, and elocution, together with extraordinary celerity 
in writing, facility in Inventing and " caution in venting the 
imagination or fancy of his brain " — Dr. Eawley records his 
industry, his anxiety to write so as to be easily understood, the 
charm of his conversation, and his power of " drawing a man on 
so as to lure him to speak on such a subject as wherein he was 
peculiarly skilful, and would delight to speak, contemning no 
man's observation, but lighting his torch at every man's candle- 
. . . His opinions and assertions were, for the most part, bind- 
ing, and not contradicted by any. ... As he was a good serv- 
ant to his master" (being never in nineteen years' service 
rebuked by the King for anything), " so he was a good master to 
his servants, . . . and if he were abused by any of them in their 
places, it was not only the error of the goodness of his nature. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 85 

but the badge of their indiscretions and intemperances. " After 
speaking of Bacon as a " religious " man, able to give a reason 
of the hope which was in him," and observant of the services 
and sacraments of the Church of England, Dr. Rawley continues: 
" This is most true. He was free from malice, no revenger of 
injuries, which, if he had minded, he had both opportunity and 
high place enough to have done it. He was no hearer of men 
out of their places. . He was no defamer of any man to his 
Prince, . . . which I reckon not among his moral but his Chris- 
tian virtues. " 

John Aubrey, in his MS. notes, jotting down several pleasant 
anecdotes of Bacon and his friends, adds: " In short, all that 
were great and good loved and honoured him [the italics are 
Aubrey's own]; his favourites took bribes, but his Lordship 
always gave judgment secundem cequum et bonum. His decrees in 
Chancery stand firm : there are fewer of his decrees reversed than 
of any other Chancellor. " 

The tributes to Bacon's personal worth by his physician, 
Peter Boeuer and by Sir Thomas Meautys, have already been 
noticed. We conclude this brief sketch with the last clause in 
the posthumous record which Ben Jonson wrote, under the 
title of Do minus Verulamius, in his notes on " Discoveries upon 
Men and Matter " : 

'' My conceit of his person was never increased toward him 
by his place, or honours; but I have and do reverence him for the 
greatness that was only proper to himself, iu that he seemed 
to me ever, by his work, one of the greatest men, and most 
worthy of admiration, that had been in many ages. In his 
adversity I ever prayed that God would give him strength; for 
greatness he could not want, neither could I condole in a word 
or syllable for him, as knowing no accident could do harm to 
virtue, but rather help to make it manifest. " 

If, as we have been told, such heartfelt words as these are 
merely the effusions of personal attachment, or of " partial " 
and " admiring " friendship, what can any of us desire better 
ourselves than that we may so live as to win such admiration 
and to attach and retain such devoted friends! And yet the 
friendship of those who lived in the presence of Bacon, who 



86 FBANCIS BACON 

worked with and for him, who knew him in his struggles and in 
his triumphs, in his greatness and in his fall, is not the only 
friendship which he has secured. Those still revere and love 
him best who, like Basil Montagu, James Spedding, and Hep- 
worth Dixon, have devoted years of their lives to the study of 
his works and the contemplation of his life and character. 

Lord Macaulay, who wrote one essay on Bacon, is astonished at 
the enthusiasm with which a prolonged intimacy with the works 
and life of that great man had inspired his biographer, Basil 
Montagu. " The writer," says Macaulay, " is enamoured of his 
subject. It constantly overliows from his lips and his pen." 
But this is the impression made upon most thoughtful persons 
who read and read again (without previous prejudice or the aid 
of a commentator) the works and letters of Bacon, until they 
come to know not only the matter, but the man himself. 

There can, we think, be but one issue to such a study: 
admiration deepening into esteem, sympathy, and a feeling of 
personal friendship, which no hostile or piecemeal criticism will 
avail to shake. 

The admiring warmth with which " Shakespeare " scholars 
have justly extolled the character of their ideal author is precisely 
that which creeps over and possesses the soul of the earnest 
disciple of the " myriad-minded " Bacon. We may be incapable 
of following, even in imagination, " the vast contemplative 
ends " which he proposed to himself, and to the accomplishment 
of which his life was actually consecrated. But no one who can 
apprehend, however dimly, the plan and purpose of such a life, 
can withhold from it a tribute of admiration, or can remain 
insensible of the inlluence for good which thnt man must by 
personal example have shed around him, and which through 
his works he still diffuses. And, says Ben Jonson at the 
conclusion of his sketch of Bacon's genius, " There is not 
one color of the mind and another of the works." Such as 
works are as a whole, such on the whole is their author. 
Goodness, as well as greatness, is impressed upon the writings 
of Bacon. We may bo awe- struck in tbe contemplation of his 
magnificent powers of mind, enchanted with his language, and 



AND HIS SECBET SOCIETY. 87 

with the consummate ability with which he treats of all subjects, 
great or small; but we feel that this is not all. Mere intellect 
may attract attention and admiration, but it does not win es- 
teem. Running through the whole of his works there is a thread 
of genuine goodness. It is a thread rather underlying the sub- 
stance than superficially exhibited, but it is inextricably inter- 
woven. Everywhere from Bacon's works there radiates this good- 
ness, kindness of heart, large-minded toleration, " enthusiasm of 
humanity," respect for authority, reverence for, and trust in, a 
great and good God. This it is which " enthralled" his personal 
friends and " enamoured" his later biographer. This it is which 
prompts us to exclaim of him as Holofernes did of Virgil: 

" Who understandeth thee not, loveth thee not." 



CHAPTER IV. 

FRANCIS bacon: AN OUTLINE OF HIS LIFE AND AIMS. 

"All is not in years to me; somewhat is in hours well spent." 

— Promus. 
"Tet hath Sir Proteus, for that's his name, 
Made use aud fair advantage of his days; 
His head unmellow'd, but his judgment ripe." 

— Two Gentlemen of Verona, ii. 4. 

MANY aud various opinions have been expressed in modern 
times concerning Francis Bacon, and the motives and 
aims supposed to have influenced his course and actions in 
public capacities. We may safely pass by these phases of his 
wonderful career, so carefully and devotedly recorded in the 
calm pages of James Speddiug, i and will for the present consider 
the personality aud life of Bacon from two dlflferent aspects: 
first, as the poet; secondly, as the most ardent promoter, if not 
the founder, of a vast secret society, destined to create a com- 
plete reformation in learning, science, literature, and religion 
itself, throughout the whole wide world. In the lively works of 
Hepworth Dixon, aud in scattered episodes in Spedding's Life 
of Bacon, we get occasional peeps behind the scene. But, in 
the last named work especially, it appears as if we were not 
meant to do so. The facts that Bacon in his youth " masked 
and mummed," and led the revels at Gray's Inn; that through- 
out his life he was appealed to on all great occasions to write 
witty speeches for others to deliver at the gorgeous " enter- 
tainments " which were the fashion of the day (and in which, 
doubtless, he took a leading part, in the background) ; that he 
and his brother Anthony, who was living with him in 1594, 

1 See "Letters and Life of Bacon," seven vols., 8vo, or the abridgment of 
them, "Life and Times of Bacon," and especially "Evenings loith a Reviewer,''^ 
2 vols., 8vo — James Spedding. 

(88) 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 89 

actually removed from their lodgings in Gray's Inn to a house in 
Bishopsgate Street, in the immediate neighborhood of The Bull Inn, 
lohere plays and interludes ivere acted. These and many such 
important factors in his private history are slipped over, or alto- 
gether omitted in most accounts of him. They should not be so 
passed hy, for Bacon's theatrical proclivities were no mere boy- 
ish or youthful taste; they grew with him and formed a very 
important part of his " method of discourse," a means by which 
he could inform those who could not read, instilling through the 
eyes and ears of the body sound teaching on all sorts of subjects. 
The stern morality which was often thus inculcated would not for 
one instant have been listened to, with patience, from the pulpit 
or the professed teacher, by the class of persons for whose benefit 
we believe that Francis Bacon wrote his earliest (and unac- 
knowledged) plays. It will be seen that this love and respect 
for the theatre was with him to the end of his life. Nearly 
fifty metaphors and figures based upon stage-playing are to be 
found in his grave scientific works, and in the Latin edition of 
the Advancement of Learning, published simultaneously with 
the collected edition or " Folio " of the Shalxcspeare plays in 
1623, he inserts a brave defence of stage-playing and a lament 
for the degradation of the theatre in his day. 

Most persons who peruse these pages are probably oequainted 
with the outlines of Bacon's life. We therefore merely piece 
together particulars extracted from the works of his most 
painstaking and sympathetic biographer, James Spedding, and 
from the shorter " lives" and biographies of his secretary, Dr. 
Rawley, Hepworth Dixon, Prof. Fowler, and others. 

Francis Bacon was born on the 22d of January, 1561, at York 
House, in the Strand. His father. Sir Nicholas (counsellor to 
Queen Elizabeth, and second prop in the kingdom), was a lord 
of known prudence, sufficiency, moderation, and integrity. His 
mother. Lady Anne Cooke, a choice lady, was eminent for piety 
and learning, being exquisitely skilled, for a woman, in the 
Greek and Latin languages. " These being the parents," says 
Dr. Rawley, " you may easily imagine what the issue was like 



90 FRAXCIS BACON 

to be, having had whatsoever nature or breeding could put 
in him." 

Sir Nicholas is described as " a stout, easy man, full of con- 
trivance, with an original and projective mind." The grounds 
laid out by him at G-orhambury suggested to his son those ideas 
of gardening which ho himself afterwards put into practice, 
and which, developed in his essays and other writings, i have 
led to the foundation of an English style of gardening.^ 
So with regard to cultivation of another kind. The scheme 
which Sir Nicholas presented to Henry VIII. for the endowment 
of a school of law and languages in London, Is thought to have 
been, perhaps, the oiiginal germ of the Neio Atlantis, the 
idea being transferred from statecraft to nature. In politics 
the Lord Keeper held to the English party; that party which set 
its face against Rome, and those who represented Rome; against 
the Jesuits, the Spaniards, and the Queen of Scots. If he felt 
warm against any one, it was against the latter, whom he de- 
tested, not only as a wicked woman, but as a political tool in 
the hands of France and Spain. By the help of his clear head 
and resolute tongue, the great change of religion, which had 
recently talien place, had been accomplished, and it may easily 
be believed that " Burghley himself was scarcely more honoured 
by invective from Jesuit pens." But on the bench he had 
neither an equal nor an enemy. Calm, slow, cautious in his 
dealings, he was at the same time merry, witty, and overflowing 
with humour and repartee ; qualities which recommended him 
very highly to the irritable, clever Queen, who loved a jest 
as well as he, and who seems to have appreciated the value of a 
faithful minister Imbued with so much strong common sense, 
and with no dangerous qualities. Francis Bacon records a say- 
ing concerning his father, which was, doubtless, to the point, or 
he would not have entered it amongst his apophthegms: " Some 
men look wiser than they are, — the Lord Keeper is wiser than 
he looks. " 

1 There socm to be many books of gardeuing and kindred subjects which 
will some day be traced to Bacon. 

2 Hepworth Dixon's Story of Bacon's Life, p. 17, from which we shall make 
large extracts, the book being out of print. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 91 

So many circumstances and little particulars crop up as these 
things are looked into, allusions and hints about Sir Nicholas as 
well as doubts and obscurities concerning his early life and 
doings, and such particulars all tend toward making us regard 
with more attention, and to attach more importance to this note 
of Francis Bacon. The thought suggests itself, Was it, perhaps, 
this wise, witty, cautious man, " full of contrivance, and with an 
OY\ghVci\, projective mind," who first contrived and projected a 
scheme for the accumulation, transmission, and advancement 
of learning, which it was left to his two sons, Anthony and 
Francis, to develop and perfect ? 

This is amongst the problems which at present we cannot 
answer, because so little is known— or perhaps it should be 
said, so little is published — coucammg Sir Nicholas and 
Anthony. Later on we hope to contribute to the general stock 
all the information about Anthony which we have been able to 
collect from unprinted MSS., and to show that there can be no 
doubt of his having been a poet and a considerable author, as 
well as an active propagandist for the secret society of which 
he seems always to acknowledge his still more talented and 
versatile brother, Francis, to have been the head. 

For the full and satisfactory elucidation of many difficulties 
and obscurities which will arise in the course of this study, it is 
of iynperativc importance that the histories and private life of Sir 
Nicholas and Anthonjj Bacon shall he submitted to a searching 
and exhaustive investigation;^ for the present we must pass on. 

iThe notices of Anthony in ordinary books, such as Spedding, Hepworth 
Dixon, etc., are quite brief and imperfect. A good summary of all these is to 
be found iu the Dkiloiiary of Nallonal Bioijmphy. edited by Leslie btepheu 
(Smith, Elder & Co., 1885). 'See vol. ii., Nicholas Bacon and Anthony B^icou. 
See also Memoirs of llie Beupi of Qmeii Elizabeth, vols. i. and ii. (\.. MiUcr,_ 
Strand, 1754), and' Historical View of the Neqotiatwiis between the tourt:^ or 
Ennbuid, France, and Br assets, from the year 1592-1617. (Loudon, 1749.) Both 
of these by Thomas Birch. They are out of print and should bo republished 
The hard worker will also tind plenty of material m the 16 folio vols ot 
Anthony Bacon's unpublished correspondence— TVjiwc/i, MbS Uambeth t-ai- 
ace, an<t in the British Museum the following: Harleinn ifb^. No. 286. art. 144, 
145 146, 147, 148. Cotton Lib., Calig. E, vii. 20.5; Nero Bvi. 290 291, 
29:$-30:5, 337. 371, 330, 383-395, 398, 403, 413 b. Lansdown MSS. No. 38, o3, »/, 
29, 44, 74, 87, 107, 11, 12. 



92 FBANCIS BACON 

The mother of Anthony and Francis was an important and 
interesting personage. She was the second wife of Sir Nicholas. 
The first wife seems to have been a quiet, ordinary woman, of 
whom there is Httle or nothing to say excepting that she left 
three sons and three daughters. Of these half-brothers and 
sisters, not one appears to have been in any way '' brotherly, " 
kind, or useful to Francis, excepting the second son, Nathaniel, 
who took to the arts, and painted a portrait of his mother stand- 
ing in a pantry, habited as a cook. It is probable that Nathan- 
iel assisted his younger brother by making some of the designs 
and pictures which will be explained farther on. 

Lady Anne Bacon was a woman of higher birth, of loftier 
character, than her husband. If the three life-like terra cotta 
busts at Gorhambury and other existing portraits are compared, 
it will be seen that it is from the mother that the boy derived 
the chiseled features and the fine development of the brow. 
From the father came the softer expression, the side-long look, 
the humourous twinkle in the eye. Lady Anne, though we 
know her to have been a tender mother and a woman of strong 
affections, was yet a somewhat stern, masterful and managing 
head of the house, and so she appears in her portraits. The 
daughter of Sir Anthony Cooke of Geddy Hall in Essex, scholar 
and tutor to Edward VI., she inherited the whole of her 
father's religious ci'eed, and not a little of his accomplishments 
in Greek. That religion was to fear God and hate the Pope. 
For a papist she had no tolerance, for this indiscriminating re- 
pugnance had been born in her blood and bred in her bone. 

The importance of these particulars can hardly be over-esti- 
mated when taken in connection with what we know of the 
development of Francis Bacon's character, and with the aims 
and aspirations which he set up for himself. There never was 
a period in his life when judgment seems to have been lacking 
to him. His earliest and most childish recorded speeches are 
as wise, witty, and judgmatical in their way as his latest. 
"His first and childish years," says Dr. Eawley, "were not 
without some mark of emiueucy; at which time he was enslaved 
with that pregnancy and towardness of wit, as they were pre- 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 93 

sages of that deep and universal apprehension which was mani- 
fest in him afterwards. " 

Having, then, this excellent gift of discernment or " judg- 
ment, " Francis Bacon was never intolerant, for intolerance is a 
sign of want of judgment, of that power or desire to grasp both 
sides of a question and to judge between them which was a pre- 
eminent faculty and characteristic of Bacon's mind. The ten- 
dency to turn every question inside out, hind-side before and 
wrong side upwards, is perceptible, not only in his argu- 
ments, theories, and behefs, but it pervades the whole of his 
language, and is the cause of that antithetical style which is so 
peculiarly characteristic in his writings. 

Although he must, from his earliest infancy, have been influ- 
enced by the mother whom he esteemed as a " saint of God," 
with a deep interest in the condition of the church, Francis 
Bacon never allowed fervour to degenerate into the " over-ween- 
ing zeal or extremes " in religion which " do dissolve and 
deface the laws of charity and of human society." Lady 
Anne perfectly believed that the cause of the Non-Conformists 
was the whole cause of Christ.i Francis never believed that; 
and it seems to be a reasonable explanation of much that took 
place between mother and son, that he was forever putting in 
practice his own injunctions regarding the necessity for great 
tenderness and delicacy in matters of religion, and urging that 
unity could only be hoped for in the church when men should 
learn that " fundamental points are to be truly discerned and 
distinguished from matters not merely of faith, but of opinion, 
order, or good intention." On fundamental points, on all that 
is "of substance," they were of one accord; but Francis 
Bacon's religion was built upon a far wider and broader basis 
than that of his pious, Calvinistic mother, or of many of her 
relations. For the Greys,2 the Burleighs, Russells, Hobys, and 
Nevilles, in short, the whole kindred of Francis Bacon by the 
male and female lines, professed the severest principles of the 

1 Spedding, Let. and L. i. 3. 

2 Tho wife of William Cooko (Lady Anne's brother) was cousin to Lady 
Jane Grey. 



94 FEANCIS BACON 

Reformation. Some of them had been exiled (amongst them 
Lady Anne's father, Sir Anthony Cooke), some even sent to the 
blocl£ in the time of Queen Mary. " In her own fierce repug- 
nance to the Italian creed she trained her sons," says Hep- 
worth Dixon. She may have made them intolerant to the errors 
of the Roman creed, but she certainly did not make them so to 
the believers themselves; for in after years Francis Bacon's 
intercourse with and kindness to members of the Roman Cath- 
olic church was a great cause of anxiety to his mother, yet his 
intimacy and correspondence with these friends continued to 
the end of his life. 

Little Francis was ten years old when he attracted the atten- 
tion of the Queen, and paid her his pretty compliment : " How 
old are you, my child?'' " I am just two years younger than 
your Majesty's happy reign. " We see him in these early days, 
a man amongst boys; now playing with the daisies and speed- 
wells, and now with the mace and seals ; cutting posies with 
the gardener, or crowing after the pigeons, of which, his mother 
tells us, he was fond, roast or in a pie. Every tale told of him 
wins upon the imagination, whether he hunts for the echo in 
St. James' Park, or eyes the jugglers and detects their tricks, 
or lisps wise words to the Queen. i 

" At twelve years of age he was sent to Cambridge and en- 
tered with his brother Anthony as fellow-comm :)ner of Trinity 
College, of which John Whitgift, afterwards Archibishop of Can- 
terbury, was then master. Repeated entries in Whitgift's 
accounts prove the brothers to have been delicate children, and 
the state of their health a continual cause of anxiety to their 
mother. Lady Anne. Many of her letters are extant, and show 
her, even to the end of her life, feeding them from her cellars 
and her poultry yard, looking sharp after their pills and 
' confections,' sending them game from her own larder, and beer 
from her own vats, lecturing them soundly on what they should 
eat and drink, on their physic and blood-lettings, on how far 
they might ride or walk, when safely take supper, and at what 

1 Rawley's Life of Bacon. Hep worth Dixon's Story of Bacon's Life. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 95 

hourof themoruiug rise from bed. From notices, scant but clear, 
of t'je Lord Keeper's household, we may see the two boys grow- 
ing up together; both gentle and susceptible in genius; as strong 
in character as they were frail in health. i One sees Francis by 
the light of Hilyard's portrait, as he strolled along the lawn or 
reclined under th3 elms, with his fat round face, his blue-grey 
eyes, his fall of brown curls, and his rips, jesting mouth; in his 
face a thought for the bird on the tree, the fragance in the air, the 
insect in the stream; a mind susceptible to all impressions. "2 

" Brief and barren as the record of his childhood appears, it 
may yet help us, " says Spedding, "when studied in the light 
which his subsequent history throws back upon it, to under- 
stand in what manner, and in what degree, the accidents of his 
birth had prepared him for the scene on which he was entering. 
When the temperament is quick and sensitive, the desire of 
knowledge strong, and the faculties so vigorous, obedient, and 
equally developed, that they find almost all things easy, the 
mind will commonly fasten upon the first object of interest that 
presents itself, with the ardour of a first love. " The same sym- 
pathetic writer goes on to describe the learned, eloquent, 
religious mother trying to imbue her little son with her own 
Puritanic fervour in church matters ; the affectionate father, the 
Lord Keeper, taking him to see and hear the opening of Parlia- 
ment, and instilling into him a reverence for the mysteries of 
statesmanship, and a deep sense of the dignity, responsibility, 
and importance of the statesman's calling. Everything that he 
saw and heard, — the alarms, the hopes, the triumphs of the 
time, the magnitude of the interests that depended upon the 
Queen's government; the high flow of loyalty which buoyed 
her up and urged her forward ; the imposing character of her 
council, — must have contributed to excite in the boy's heart a 
devotion for her person and cause, and aspirations after the 
civil dignities in the midst of which he was bred up. For the 

1 lb. From Whitgiffs Accounts, in Brit. Mag. xxxii. .365. Heywood's Univer- 
sity Transactions, i. 123-150. Athenae Cantabrigienses, ii. 314. Lambeth MSS. 
650, fol. 54. 

2 Dixon. Spedding, Letters and Life, 1, 2, 3. 



96 FRANCIS BACON 

present, however, his field of ambition was in the school-room 
and library, where, perhaps, from the delicacy of his constitu- 
tion, but still more from the bent of his genius, he was more at 
home than in the playground. His career there was victorious ; 
new prospects of boundless extent opening on every side,i until 
at length, just about the age at which an intellect of quick 
growth begins to be conscious of original power, he was sent to 
the university, where he hoped to learn all that men knew. 
By the time, however, that he had gone through the usual course, 
he ivas conscious of a climppointment, and came out of college at 
fifteen, by his own desire apparently, and, without waiting to 
take a degree, in precisely the same opinion as Montaigne when he 
left college, as he says, " having run through my whole course, 
as they call it, and, in truth, without any advantage that I can 
honestly brag of. " 

Francis stayed at Cambridge only for three years, being more 
than once driven away by outbreaks of the plague; once for so loiig 
as eight or nine months. Yet he had made such progress in his 
studies that he seems to have begged his father to remove him, 
because he had already found that the academical course which 
he was pursuing was " barren of the production of fruits for 
the life of man. " Leaving the university before he was sixteen 
and without taking a degree, he yet carried with him the germs 
of his plan for reconstituting the whole round of the arts and 
sciences, a plan from which he never departed, and upon which 
he was still working at the time of his death. 

That this should have been possible, argues an unusually 
extensive reading, and an acquaintance with branches of learn- 
ing far beyond the subjects prescribed by the university author- 
ities, and taking together all the facts concerning his great 
schemes, and the indications which he gives as to the origin of 
one of them, it is probable that during his sixteenth year, and 
perhaps earlier, he embarked in the study of the Indian, Arabian, 

1 It seems probable that in these early days the ideas and schemes of Sir 
Nicholas regarding an improved system of education and learning were dis- 
coursed of to his little son, and that the germs of his own great plans were thus 
planted. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 97 

Egyptian, and other ancient philosophers and religious writers, 
who gained such an influence over his iiuagiuation, and from 
whom he seems to have derived many hints for the symbolism 
employed in the teaching of his secret society. 

However this may be, it is certain that Francis Bacon was, in 
very early childhood, possessed with an extraordinary clear-head- 
edness, and with a maturity of judgment which caused him to 
form, when he was but a mere boy, those " fixed and unalterable 
and universal opinioyis''^ uponwhichthewholeof his after life-work 
and philosophy were based — opinions as characteristic as they 
were in advance of his age ; theories and ideas which we shall 
presently find claimed for others, but which, wherever they make 
themselves heard, echo to our ears the voice of the " Great 
Master. " 

During his three years' stay at the university, Francis fell, says 
Dr. Eawley, " into the dislike of the philosophy of Aristotle, not 
for the unworthiness of the author, to tvhom he would ascribe all 
high attributes, but for the unfruitfulness of the way, being a 
philosophy (his lordship used to say) only strong for disputations 
and contentions, but barren of the production of works for the 
benefit of the life of man, in which mind he continued to his 
dying day." 

It seems not a little strange that this " dislike " of Bacon, 
which has been even made the subject of reproach to him, and 
which is decidedly treated as an unreasonable prejudice pecul- 
iar to himself, should not have been equally observed in the 
writings of nearly every contemporary author who makes men- 
tion of Aristotle. Let this point be noted. To cite passages would 
fill too much space, but readers are invited to observe for them- 
selves, and to say if it is not true that every distinguished " au- 
thor " of Bacon's day, and for some years afterwards, even whilst 
ascribing to Aristotle " all high attributes, " decries his system 
of philosophy, and for the same reasons ichich Bacon gives, 
namely, that it was" fruitless" — that it consisted more of words 
than of matter, and that it did not enable followers of Aristotle 
to rise above the level of Aristotle. Yet this had not hitherto 
been the general opinion. 



98 FBANCIS BACON 

" It seemed that toward the end of the sixteenth century, 
men neither knew nor desired to know more than was to 
be learned from Aristotle; a strange thing at any time; more 
strange than ever just then when the heavens themselves seemed 
to be taking up the argument on their behalf, and by suddenly 
lighting up within the region of ' the unchangeable and incor- 
ruptible,' and presently extinguishing a fixed stari as bright 
as Jupiter, to be protesting by signs and wonders against the 
cardinal doctrine of the Aristotelian philosophy. 

" It ivas then that a thought struck him, the date of which de- 
serves to be recorded, not for anything extraordinary in the 
thought itself, which had perhaps occurred to others before him, 
but for its influence upon his after life. If our study of nature be 
thus barren, he thought, our method of study must be wrong: 
might not a better method bo found! The suggestion was simple 
and obvious, and the singularity was in the way he took hold of 
it. With most men such a thought would have come and gone 
in a passing regret. . . . But ivith him the gift, of seeing in pro- 
phetic vision ivhat might be and ought to be tvas united ivith the 
practical talent of devising means and handling minute details. 
He could at once imagine like a poet, and execute like a clerk of 
the works. Upon the conviction. This may be done, followed at 
once the question, How may it be done? Upon that question 
answered, followed the resolution to try to do it. " 2 

We earnestly request the reader to observe that the subject of 
this jyaragraph is a little boy twelve or thirteen years old. The 
biographer continues: 

iTho new star in Cassiopeia which shone with full lustre on the youthful 
Bacon's freshmanship (and to which ho is said to have attached great importance 
as an augury of his own future) was the same star — or, as some think, 
comet — which guided the wise men of the East, the Chaldean astronomers and 
astrologers to the birth-place of our blessed Saviour. This star of Bethlehem 
has since appeared thrice, at intervals varying slightly in length. According to 
astronomical calculations, it might have re-entered Cassiopeia in 1887, but its 
uninterrupted movements will correspond with those previously recorded if it 
appears again in 1891. Wo should then say truly that Bacon's star is still m the 
ascendant. 

2 Let. and Life, i. 4. Again we wonld remind the reader of the great probabil- 
ity that Sir Nicholas Bacon had implanted this idea in the mind of his brilliant 
little son. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 99 

" Of the degrees by which the suggestion ripened into a pro- 
ject; the project into an undertaliiug, and the undertaking un- 
folded itself into distinct proportions and the full grandeur of 
its total dimensions, I can say nothing. But that the thought 
first occurred to him at Cambridge, therefore before he had com- 
pleted his fifteenth year, we know upon the best authority — his 
own statement to Dr. Rawley. I believe it ought to be regarded 
as the most important event of his life; the event which had a 
greater influence than any other upon his character and future 
course." 

This passage seems, at first sight, rather to contradict the 
former, which says that the thought came to Bacon when first 
he went to Cambridge. But the discrepancy appears to have 
been caused by the difficulty experienced, as well by biographer 
as reader, in conceiving that such thoughts, such practical 
schemes, could have been the product of a child's mind. 

All evidence which we shall have to bring forward goes to 
confirm the original statement, that Francis conceived his plan 
of reformation soon after going up to the university; that he 
matured and organised a system of working it by means of a 
secret society, before he was fifteen years old, by which time 
he had already written much which he afterwards disdained as 
poor stufi", but which was published, and which has all found a 
respectable or distinguished place in literature. 

It is not difficult to imagine what would have been the efifect 
upon such a mind as this of grafting on to the teaching received 
in a strict Puritan home the study, by turns, of every kind of 
ancient and pagan philosophy. And it is clear that Francis Bacon 
plunged with delight into these occult branches of learning, his 
poetic mind finding a strong attraction in the figurative language 
and curious erudition of the old alchemists and mystics. Did 
such studies for awhile unsettle his religious ideas, and prepare 
him to shake ofi^ the bands of a narrow sectarianism? If so, 
they certainly never shook his faith in God, or in the Bible as 
the expression of " God's will. " Such researches only increased 
his anxiety and aspiration after light and truth. He never wrote 
without some reference to the Divine Wisdom and Goodness, 



100 FRANCIS BACON 

some " laud and thanks to G-od for his marvellous works, with 
prayers imploring His ayde and blessing for the illumination of 
our labours, and the turning of them to good and holy uses. " 

Bright, witty, and humourous as Francis naturally was, san- 
guine and hopeful as was his disposition, there is yet a strain of 
melancholy in most of his writings. " A gravity beyond his 
years '' in youth — in mature age a look " as though he pitied 
men. " And he did pity them; he grieved and was oppressed at 
the thought that '* man, the most excellent and noble, the prin- 
cipal and mighty work of God, wonder of nature, created in 
God's image, put into paradise to know him and glorify him, and 
to do his will — that this most noble creature, pitiful change ! 
is fallen from his first estate, and must eat his meat in sorrow, 
subject to death and all manner of infirmities, all kinds of 
calamities which befall him in this life, and perad venture eternal 
misery in the life to come, "i 

The more he cogitated, the more he was assured that the 
cause of all this sin and misery is ignorance. " Ignorance is the 
curse of God, but knowledge is the wing by which we fly to 
heaven. "2 

He reflected that " God created man in His own image, in a 
reasonable soul, in innocency, in free-will, in sovereignty. That 
He gave him a law and commandment which was in his power 
to keep, but he kept it not; but made a total defection from 
God. . . . That upon the fall of man, death and vanity en- 
tered by the justice of God, and the image of God was defaced, 
and heaven and earth, which were made for man's use, were 
subdued to corruption by his fall, . . . but that the law of 
nature was first imprinted in that remnant of light of nature 
which was left after the fall; . . . that the sufferings and 
merits of Christ, as they are sufficient to do away the sins of 
the whole world, so they are only effectual to those who are 
regenerate by the Holy Ghost, who breatheth where He 
will, of free grace which quickeneth the spirit of a man. 

1 Anatomy of Melancholy, i. 174. 

2 3 Henry YI. iv. 7. 



AND HIS SECBET SOCIETY. 101 

That the work of the Spirit, though it be not tied to any 
means in heaven or earth, yet is ordinarily dispensed by the 
preaching of the word, . . . prayer and reading, by God's bene- 
fits, His judgments and the contemplation of His creatures." 

Since most of these means are cut oflf from those who are 
plunged in dark, gross ignorance, an improved method of study 
must precede the universal reformation which Bacon contem- 
plated in literature, science, philosophy, and in religion itself. 
To bring about such a reformation would be the greatest boon 
which could be conferred upon suffering humanity. By God's 
help he could and would bring it about. 

It would be almost unreasonable to suppose that the boy- 
philosopher did not communicate the germs of such thoughts 
and aspirations to the father to whom he was deeply attached, 
and whose ideas are known to have been in close sympathy with 
those of his favourite son. Dr. Rawley says, significantly: 
" Though he was the youngest son in years, he ivas not the low- 
est in his fathers affection; " and, as has been said in a previous 
chapter, the visions of Francis seem to have been in some de- 
gree foreshadowed by or based upon earlier plans of the old 
Treasurer. At all events, the sagacious father seconded the 
plans, and perceived the growing genius of his favourite son, and 
when Francis complained that he was being taught at Cam- 
bridge mere words and not matter, Sir Nicholas allowed him to 
quit the university, and Francis, after lingering a year or more 
at home, at his own desire, and, most probably, in accordance 
with a conviction which he afterwards expressed, that " travel 
is in the younger sort a part of education, " was sent in the train 
of Sir Amias Paulet, the Queen's Ambassador to France, " to 
see the wonders of the world abroad. " 

Hitherto we have scarcely mentioned Anthony Bacon, the 
elder of the two sons of Sir Nicholas by his second wife. Lady 
Anne; and, indeed, very little is known to the world in general 
of this man, who yet, we have reason to beheve, was a very 
remarkable person, and who, although he rarely appeared upon 
the scene, yet played a very important part behind the curtain, 
where by and by we will try to peep. Anthony was two years 



102 FRANCIS BACON 

older than Francis, and the brothers were deeply attached to 
each other. They never address or speak of each other but in 
words of devoted affection — " My deerest brother," " Antonie 
my comforte. " As they went together to Cambridge, so prob- 
ably they left at the same time, but even of this we are not 
sure. What next befell Anthony is unknown to his biographers, 
and there is a strange obscurity and mystery about the life of 
this young man, who, nevertheless, is described by Dr. Rawley as 
" a gentleman of as high a wit, though not of such profound 
learning, as his brother." That he was a generous, unselfish, 
and admiring brother, who thought no sacrifice great which 
could be made for the benefit of Francis, and for the forwarding 
of his enterprises, we know, and there is abundant proof of the 
affection aud reverence which he had for his younger and more 
gifted brother. The mystery connected with Anthony appears 
to be consequent upon his having acted as the propagandist on 
the continent of Francis Bacon's secret society and new phi- 
losophy. He conducted an enormous correspondence with 
people of all kinds who could be useful to the cause for which 
the brothers were laboring. He seems to have received and 
answered the large proportion of letters connected with the 
business part of the society; he collected and forwarded to 
Francis all important books and intelligence which could be of 
use, aud devoted to his service not only his life, but all his 
worldly wealth, which we see mysteriously melting away, but 
which, no doubt, went, like that of Francis, into the common 
fund which was destined, as one of the correspondents expresses 
it, to " keep alight this fire " so recently kindled. 

Sixteen folio volumes of Anthony Bacon's letters lie, almost 
unknown, in the library at Lambeth Palace. These leave no 
loophole for doubt as to his real mission and purpose in living 
abroad. We hope to return to them by and by, in a chapter 
devoted to these letters alone. For the present they are only 
mentioned to indicate the source of much of our information 
as to Anthony's life and aims. 

Neither of the brothers was strong in health. Anthony, 
especially, soon became a martyr to gout and other ailments 



AXD HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 103 

which were supposed to explain the fact of the comparative re- 
tiremeut in which he lived at home and abroad. Francis seems 
chiefly to have suffered from those nervous disorders — tooth- 
ache, sleeplessness, and " vapours, " " clouds and melancholy " — 
which too often beset the body where the spirit over-crows it. 
In later life, looking back, he speaks of having had good health 
in his youth ; so the •' pudderiug with the potigarie " was proba- 
bly entailed by the overstrain of such unremitting and exciting 
work as he undertook. His natural constitution must have been 
singularly good, and his strength unusual, for to the labours of 
Hercules he added those of Atlas, cleansing and restoring the 
world, and bearing the weight of the whole tremendous work 
upon his own shoulders. 

But for the present we may look on Francis Bacon as free from 
care or anxiety. " We must picture him as in the season of all- 
embracing hope, dreaming on things to come, and rehearsing 
his life to himself in that imaginary theatre where all things go 
right; for such was his case when — hopeful, sensitive, bash- 
ful, amiable, wise and well-informed for his age, and glowing 
with noble aspirations — ^he put forth into the world with happy 
auspices in his sixteenth year. " i 

What a change of scene, what a revulsion of ideas, what an 
upsetting of habits, opinions and prejudices, for a boy to be sent 
forth from the quiet college life under the supervision of Whitgift, 
and from the still more strict routine of a Puritan home, into the 
gaiety, frivolity, dissipation of the life of courts and camps! 
True, Sir Amias and Lady Margaret Paulet, in whose suite 
Francis was to travel, were kind and good, and, if young in 
years, Francis was old in judgment. But all the more, let us 
picture to ourselves the effect on that lively imagination, and 
keenly observant mind, of the scenes into which he was now 
precipitated. For the English Ambassador was going on a mis- 
sion to the court of Henri III. at Paris, and from thence with the 
throng of nobles who attended the King of France and the Queen 
Mother. The English embassy, with Francis in its train, went in 

1 Spedding, Letters and Life, i. 6. 



104 FRANCIS BACON 

royal progress down to Blois, Tours and Poictiers, in the midst 
of alarms, intrigues, and disturbances, intermixed with festivi- 
ties and license, such as he could never have dreamed of. The 
French historian of the war, though a witness of and actor in 
this comedy, turned from it in disgust.i " When two courts 
which rivalled each other in gallantry were brought together 
the consequence may be guessed. Every one gave himself up to 
pleasure; feasts and ballets followed each other, and love became 
the serious business of life. " 2 

At Poictiers, which he reached in 1577, Francis Bacon set up 
headquarters for three years. Yet we are quite sure, from re- 
marks dropped here and there, that, during these three years, 
he made various excursions into Spain and Italy, learning to 
speak, or, at least, to understand, both Spanish and Italian. 
He also made acquaintance with Michel de Montaigne, then 
Mayor of Bordeaux, and perhaps he travelled with him, and kept 
his little record of the travels. 3 For during the time of Francis 
Bacon's sojourn in France we still hear of him as studijinr) and 
writing. Plunged for the first time into the midst of riotous 
courtly dissipation, the record of him still is, that he was 
observing, drawing up a paper on the state of Europe — and 
what else? We think also that he was writing essays on the 
society which was spread out before him, and which he regarded 
as a scene in a play. He wrote as the thoughts ran into his 
pen, with never-faihng judgment and perception, with the 
naivete of youth, with much enjoyment, but with mistrust of 
himself, and with profound dissatisfaction, not only with the 
state of society, but with his own enjoyment. Society, he knew, 
would neither relish nor be improved by essays which were 
known to be written by a youth of eighteen or nineteen ; he 
would, therefore, borrow the robe of respected eld, and the 
essays should come forth with authority, fathered by no less 
a person than the Mayor of Bordeaux.* 

1 Hepworth Dixon. 2 Sully's Memoirs. 

3 The Journal du Yoyag-o do Michel de Montaigne en Italie, par la Suisse 
et rAllemagno, 1579 (Old Style), is written in the thii'd person: "iZe, M. de 
Montaujne, reported," etc. 

1 Of course it will be understood that fha first edition only of the Essays is sup- 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 105 

These are by no means the only works which were (in our 
opinion) the products of those light-hearted, exciting days, 
when with youth, health, genius, keen powers of enjoyment, of 
observation, and of imagination, with endless energy and indus- 
try, andample means at his disposal, — " Wealth, honour, troops of 
friends, " — he caught the first glimpses of a dazzling phase of 
life, and of the " brave new worldthat hath such people in it. " We 
may judge, from the inscription on a miniature paiuted by 
Hilllard in 1578, of the impression made by his conversation upon 
those who heard it. There is his face, as it appeared in his 
eighteenth year, and round it may be read the graphic words — 
the natural ejaculation, we may presume, of the artist's own 
emotion : Si tabula daretur digna, aninium mallem; if one could 
but paint his mind ! 

He was still at Paris, and wishing to be at home again, when, 
on February 17, 1579, Francis dreamed that his father's coun- 
try house, Grorhambury, was plastered over with black mortar. 
About that time, Sir Nicholas, having accidentally fallen asleep 
at an open window, during the thaw which followed a great fall 
of snow, was seized with a sudden and fatal illness of which he 
died in two days. The question whether in future Francis 
"might live to study" or must "study to live," was then 
trembling in the balance. This accident turned the scale 
against him. Sir Nicholas, having provided for the rest of his 
family, had laid by a considerable sum of money, which he 
meant to employ in purchasing an estate for his youngest son. 
His sudden death prevented the purchase, and left Francis with 
only a fraction of the fortune intended for him, the remainder 
being divided amougst his brothers and sisters. 

Thenceforward, for several years, we find him making strenuous 
efibrts to avoid the necessity of following the law as a profession, 
and endeavouring to procure some service under the Queen, more 
fitted to his tastes and abilities. But the Cecils, now in power, 
not only refused to help their kinsman (of whom it is said they 

posed to have been wi-itten at this time. The large and unexplained additions 
and alterations are of a much later period, and the enlarged edition did not ap- 
pear in Englaad till long after Bacon's death. 



106 FRANCIS BACON 

were jealous), but, that he might receive no effectual assistance 
from higher quarters, they spread reports that he was a vain 
speculator, unfit for real business. Bacon was thus driven, 
" against the bent of his genius, " to the law as his only resource. 
Meanwhile he lived with his mother at Gorhambury, St. Albans. 

Any one who will be at the pains to study the Shakespeare 
plays, in the order in which Dr. Delius has arranged them (and 
which he considered to be the most correct chronological order), 
will see that they agree curiously with the leading events of 
Bacon's external life. So closely indeed do the events coincide 
with the plots of the plays, that a complete story of Bacon'strue 
life has been drawn from them. The following notes may be 
suggestive: 

1st Henry VI. The plot is laid in France, and the scenes 
occur iu the very provinces and districts of Maine, Anjou, Or- 
leans, Poictiers, etc., through which Bacon travelled in the 
wake of the French court. 

2nd Henry VI. The battle of St. Albans. The incident 
recorded on the tomb of Duke Humphrey, in an epitaph tvritten 
circa 1621 (when Bacon was living at St. Albans), of the impostor 
who pretended to have recovered his sight at St. Alban's shrine, 
is the same as in the play. See 2 Henry VI. ii. 1. 

The Taminj of the Shrew, The Two Gentlemen of Verona, etc., 
Borneo and Juliet, and The Merchant of Venice, all reflecting 
Francis Bacon's studies as a lawyer, combined with his corre- 
spondence with his brother Anthony, then living in Italy. 
When Francis fell into great poverty and debt, he was forced 
to get help from the Jews and Lombards, and was actually cast 
into a spongiug-house by a " hard Jew, " on account of a bond 
which was not to fall due for two months. Meanwhile Anthony, 
returning from abroad, mortgaged his property to pay his 
brother's debts, taking his own credit and that of his friends, in 
order to relieve Francis, precisely as the generous and unselfish 
Antonio is represented to do in The Merchant of Venice. This 
play appeared in the following year, and the hard Jew was 
immortalised as Shylock. The brothers spent the summer and 
autumn of 1592 at Twickenham. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 107 

The Midsummer Niglifs Bream appears shortly afterwards. 
In this piece Bacou seems, whilst creating his fairies, to have 
called to his help his new researches into the history of the 
winds, and of heat and cold. 

The plays and their various editions and additions enable us 
to trace Bacon's progress In science and ethical and metaphysical 
studies. The politics of the time also make their mark. 

Bichard II. was a cause of dire offence to the Queen, since it 
alluded to troubles in Ireland, and Elizabeth considered that it 
conveyed rebukes to herself, of which Essex made use to stir up 
sedition. The whole history of this matter is very curious, and 
intimately connected with Bacon, but it is too long for repeti- 
tion here.i 

Hamlet and Lear contain graphic descriptions of melancholia 
and raving madness. They appeared after Lady Anne Bacon 
died, having lost the use of her faculties, and "being," said 
Bishop Goodman, " Uttle better than frantic in her age." She 

Fell into a sadness, then into a fast, 
Thence to a watch, thence into a weakness. 
Thence to a lightness, and by this declension 
Into the madness wherein, 

like Hamlet, she raved, and which her children wailed for. 

The particulars of the death of Queen Elizabeth, which Bacon 
learned from her physician, bear a striking resemblance to pass- 
ages in King Lear. 

Macbeth appears to reflect a combination of circumstances 
connected with Bacou. About 1605-6 an act of Parliament was 
passed against witches, James imphcitly believing in their 
existence and power, and Bacon, in part, at least, sharing that 
belief. James, too, had been much offended by the remarks 
passed upon his book on demonology, and by the contemptuous 
jokes in which the players had indulged against the Scots. 
Mixed up with Bacon's legal and scientific inquiries into witch- 



ISeo Bacon's Apophthegms, Devey, p. 166, and the Apologia of Essex. 
2 See Did Francis Bacon lorite Shakespeare, part ii. p. 26, aad Bacon's Apo- 
logia and Apophthegms. 



108 FEANCIS BACON 

craft, we find, iu Macbeth, mucli that exhibits his acquaintance 
with the History of the Winds, of his experiments on Dense 
and Bare, and his observations on the Union of Mind and 
Body. 

A Wintefs Tale is notably full of Bacon's observations on 
horticulture, hybridising, grafting, etc., and on the vh'tues of 
plants medicinal, and other matters connected with his notes 
on the Begimen of Health. 

Cymbeline, and Antony and Cleopatra, show him studying 
vivisection, and the elTects of various poisons on the human 
body. The effects of mineral and vegetable poisons are also 
illustrated in Haml-et, and if these plays were written so early 
as some commentators suppose, then we may believe that cer- 
tain portions were interpolated after Bacon's investigations 
into the great poisoning cases which he was, later on, called 
upon to conduct. 

The Tempest describes a wreck on the Bermudas, and Cali- 
ban, the man-monster or devil. It was published soon after 
the loss of the ship Admiral, in which Bacon had embarked 
money to aid Southampton, Pembroke, and Montgomery in the 
colonisation of Virginia. The ship was wrecked on the Ber- 
mudas, the " Isle of Divils. " About this time the History of 
the 'Winds and of the Sailing of Ships was said to be written. 

Timon of Athens, showing the folly of a large-hearted and 
over-generous patron in trusting to " time's flies " and " mouth- 
friends," who desert him in the time of need, seems to have 
been written by Bacon after his fall and retirement, to satirise 
his own too sanguine trust in parasites, who lived upon him so 
long as he was prosperous, but who, on his reverse of fortune, 
deserted, and left him to the kindness of the few true friends 
and followers on whom he was absolutely dependent. 

Henry VIII. completes the picture. In a letter from Bacon to 
the King, in 1622, he quotes (in the original draft) the words 
which Wolsey utters in the play of Henry VIII., iii. 2, 454-457, 
though Bacon adds: " My conscience says no such thing; for I 
know not but in serving you I have served God in one. But it 
may be if I had pleased men as I have pleased you, it would 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. • 109 

have been better with me. " This passag:e was cut out of the 
fair copy of the letter; its original idea appeared next year in 
the play of Henry VIII. 

Ben Jonson describes, in well-known lines, the labour and 
artistic skill necessary for the i)roduction of mighty verse so 
richly spun and woven so fit as Shakespeare^ s. To a profound 
study of Nature, which Is exalted by, " made proud of his de- 
signs, " must be added the art which arrays Nature in " lines 
so richly spun and woven so fit:" 

"For though the poet's matter Nature be, 
His art must give the fashion ; and that he 
Who casts to write a living line must sweat 
(Such as thine are) and strike the second heat 
Upon the Muses' anvil ; turn the same 
And himself iv'Uh it, that he thinks to frame , 
Or for the laurel he may gain a scorn ; 
For a good poet's made as well as born. 
And such wert thou." 

But, as a mere child, he seems to have written, not words 
without matter, but matter ivithout art, and we can well imagine 
huu saying to himself in after years : 

" Why did T write 1 What sin to me unknown 
Dipt me in ink, my parents', or my own ? 
As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, 
I lisped in numbers, and the numbers came." 

There is not one, not even the poorest, amongst the Shake- 
speare plays, which could possibly have been the first or nearly 
the earliest of its author's efforts in that kind. A careless peru- 
sal of some of the " mysteries " or play interludes which were 
in favour previous to the year 1579 will enable any one to per- 
ceive the wide chasm which lies between such pieces and — say 
— Titus Andronicus and the plays of Henry VI. There are 
passages in these plays which no tyro in the arts of poetry and of 
playwriting could have penned, and for our own part we look, 
not backward, but forward, to the crowd of " minor Elizabethan 
dramatists" in order to find the crude, juvenile effusions which^ 



110 FRANCIS BA CON 

we believe, will prove to have been struck off by Francis Bacon i 
at the first heat upon the Muses' anvil. These liglit and un- 
labored pieces were probably written, at first, chiefly for his own 
amusement, or to be played (as they often were) in the Inns of 
Court, or by the private " servants" of his friends, and in their 
own houses. 

Later on, we know that he took a serious view of the impor- 
tant influence for good or for bad which is easily produced by 
shows and " stage-plays, " set before the eyes of the public. As 
has been said, he always, and from the first, regarded the stage, 
not as a mere " toy," but as a powerful means of good — as a 
glass in which the whole world should be reflected — " a mirror 
held up to nature ; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her 
own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and 
pressure." 

'* Men, " he said, " had too long ' adored the deceiving and 
deformed imagery which the unequal mirrors of their own minds 
had presented to them,' " the *' deformities " of ignorance, su- 
perstition, affectation, and coarseness. They should see these 
deformities of vice and ignorance reflected so truly, so life-like, 
that virtue should charm, whilst vice should appear so repulsive 
that men should shrink from it with loathing. 

Many of the plays which we attribute to Francis Bacon and 
his brother Anthony treat of low life, and contain not a few 
coarse passages. But the age was coarse and gross, and it must 
be observed that, even in such passages, vice is never attrac- 
tive; on the contrary, it is invariably made repelling and con- 
temptible, sometimes disgusting, and in every case good and the 
right are triumphant. It is a matter for serious consideration 
whether the pieces which are exhibited before our lower and 
middle classes possess any of the merits which are conspicuous 
in the plays (taken as a whole) of the time of Elizabeth. We 
see them, we admire or laugh, and we come away, for the most 
part, without having heard a single phrase worthy of repetition 
or record. We remember little of the play twenty-four hours 

1 Again we add a saving clause iu favour of the little known Anthony, also 
" a concealed poet." 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. Ill 

after we have seeu it, and we are uo whit the wiser, though at 
the time we may have been the merrier, and that is not a bad 
thing. 

Bacon perceived, doubtless by his own youthful experience, 
that men are far more readily impressed by what they see than 
by what they hear or read. That, moreover, they must be 
amused, and that the manner and means of their recreation are 
matters of no slight importance. For the bow cannot always 
be bent, and to make times of leisure truly recreative and 
profitable to mind as well as body, was, he thought, a thing 
much to be wished, and too long neglected. The lowest and 
poorest, as well as the most dissipated or the most cultivated, 
love shows and stage plays. He loved them himself. Would it 
not be possible to make the drama a complete (though unrecog- 
nised) school of instruction in morals, manners, and politics, 
and at the same time so highly entertaining and attractive 
that men should unconsciously be receiving good and wholesome 
doctrines, whilst they sought merely to amuse themselves'? 

There is no question that such things were to him true recre- 
ation and delight. Sports and pastimes have for one object 
" to drive away the heavy thoughts of care, " and to refresh the 
spirits dulled by overwork, and by harping on one string. Idle- 
ness, especially enforced idleness, is no rest to such a mind as 
Bacon's; and we know that ho was always weariest and least 
well in " the dead long vacation." So we are sure that he often 
exclaimed, like Theseus, in the Midsummer Niglifs Dream: 

"Come, now; what masques, what dances shall we have, 
To wear away this long age of three hours 
Between our after-supper and bedtime ? 
Where is our usual manager of mirth ? 
What revels are in hand ? Is there no play 
To ease the anguish of a torturing hour \ 
Say, what abridgment have you for this evening? 
What masque? what music? How shall we beguile 
The lazy time, if not with some delight 1 " 

Like Theseus and his friends, he finds little satisfaction in 
the performance of the ancient play which is proposed, and 



112 FRANCIS BACON 

which he knows by heart, or in the modern one, in which 
" there is not one word apt or one word fitted." He mourns 
the degradation of the stage — in ancient times so noble, and 
even in the hands of the Jesuits wisely used, as a discipline for 
the actor, and a means of wide instruction for the spectators. 

There is reason to think that Francis, in childhood, showed 
great talent for acting, and that he took leading parts in the 
Latin plays which were performed at college. At home, such 
doings were checked by Lady Anne's Puritan prejudices. The 
strong tendency which Anthony and Francis evinced for the 
theatre, and for " mumming and masquiug " with their compan- 
ions, was a source of great anxiety and displeasure to this good 
lady. She bewailed it as a falhng-ofif from grace, and prayed 
yet that it might not be accounted a sin that she should permit 
her dear son Francis to amuse himself at home in getting up 
such entertainments, with the help of the domestics. All this 
renders it improbable that he ever had the opportunity of going 
to a public theatre until he went abroad , and perhaps the very 
coarseness and stupidity of what he then saw put on the stage 
may have disgusted him, acting as an incentive to him to attempt 
someting better. 

At all events, hardly had he settled down in Gray's Inn, before 
the plays began to appear. From this time there are frequent 
allusions, in the records of the Gray's Inn Revels, to the assist- 
ance which he gave, aud which seems, in most cases, to have 
consisted in writing, as well as managing, the whole entertain- 
ment. If any names are mentioned in connection with such 
revels, or with the masques and devices which were performed 
at court, these names almost always include that of Francis 
Bacon. Sometimes he is the only person named in connection 
with these festivities.' 

All this might be taken as a matter of course, so long as 
Bacon was but a youth, though even at that time the fact of 
his being a playwright, or stage-manager, would seem to be 
remarkable, considering the horror with which his mother, and 
no doubt many others of his near and dear Puritan relatives, 
regarded the performance of stage-plays and masques. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 113 

Lady Anne, in a letter written to Anthony, just before the 
Eevels and the first performance of the Comedy of Errors, at 
G-ray's Inn, in 1594, exhorts him and Francis that they may 
" not mum, nor mask, nor sinfully revel. Who were sometime 
counted first, God grant they wane not daily, and deserve to be 
named last." i 

Considering the low estimation in which the degraded stage of 
that date was held by all respectable people, it is not astonish- 
ing that during Bacon's lifetime (if there were no more potent 
motive than this) his friends should combine to screen his repu- 
tation from the terrible accusation of being concerned with such 
base and despised matters. But it is long since this feeling 
against the stage has passed away; and, moreover, in some 
cases, we find Bacon actually instrumental in producing the 
works of " Shakespeare, " not to mention those which have become 
classical and of much esteem. It is, therefore, not a little sur- 
prising to find that particulars and records, which would have 
been reckoned as of the greatest interest and importance, if they 
had concerned Shakspere or Ben Jonson, should be hushed up, 
or passed over, when they are found closely to connect Francis 
Bacon with tlieatrical topics. As an illustration of our meaning, 
it maybe mentioned that in the voluminous " Life" of Spedding 
the index, at the end of each of the five volumes, does not enable the 
uninitiated reader to trace the fact that Bacon wrote either devices, 
masques, interludes, entertainments, or sonnets; none of these 
words appear in any index. Moreover, although the device of 
the Order of the Helmet, and the masques of the Indian Boy, and 
the Conference of Pleasure, are partly printed and all described 
in that work, we seek in vain for the pieces under these or any 
other titles, and they are only to be found by looking under 
Gray^s Inn revels. Evidently there has been no great desire to 
enlighten the world in general as to Bacon's connection with the 
theatrical world of his day — perhaps it was thought that such a 
connection was derogatory to his position and reputation as a 
great philosopher. 

1 Lambeth MSS. 650, 222, quoted \yj Dixon. So here again we see Anthony 
also mixed up -nath play- writing. 

8 



114 fhancis bacon 

Hepworth Dixon goes into tlie opposite extreme when he 
speaks of Lady Anne, in letters written as late as 1592, " loving 
and counselling her two careless boys. " Francis was at that 
date thirty, and Anthony thirty-two years of age. A year later 
Francis wrote to his uncle, Lord Burleigh: " I wax somewhat 
ancient. One and thirty years is a good deal of sand in a man's 
hour-glass. My health, I thank God, I find confirmed; and I do 
not fear that action shall impair it, because I account my ordi- 
nary course of study and meditation to be more painful than 
most parts of action are." He goes on to say that he always 
hoped to take some " middle place" in which he could serve her 
Majesty, not for the love either of honour or business, " for the 
contemplative planet carrieth me away wholly, " but because it 
was his duty to devote his abilities to his sovereign, and also 
necessary for him to earn money, because, though he could not 
excuse himself of sloth or extravagance, " yet my health is not 
to spend, nor my course to get. " Then he makes that remark- 
able declaration which further explains his perpetual need of 
money: " I confess that I have as vast contemplative ends as I have 
moderate civil ends; for I have taken all knoivledge to be my 
province. This, whether it be curiosity or vainglory, or, if one 
may take it favorably, philanfhropia, is so fixed in my mind that 
it cannot be removed. " 

That the biographer should have thought fit to use such an 
expression as " careless boy " in regard to the indefatigable 
philosopher, " the most prodigious wit," who in childhood had a 
gravity beyond his years, and who at thirty felt " ancient, " 
speaks volumes as to the impression made on the mind of a sym- 
pathetic reader by the various small particulars which shed light 
on the gay and sprightly side of Francis Bacon's many-sided 
character. 

In the letter to his uncle Bacon goes on to say, " I do easily 
see that place of any reasonable countenance doth bring com- 
mandment of more wits than a man^s own, which is the thing I 
greatly affect. " Here is a reason, the only reason, why he desired 
to gain a good position in the world. With place and wealth 
would come power to carry out his vast contemplative ends. 



AND HIS SKCMET SOCIETY. Il5 

Without money or position he could have no such hope, and he 
adds, " If your lordship will not carry me on, I will not do as 
Anaxagoras did, who reduced himself with contemplation unto 
voluntary poverty; hut this I will do: I will sell the inheritance 
that I have, and purchase some lease of quick revenue, or some 
office of gain that shall he executed hy deputy, and so give over 
all care of service, aud become some sorry book-maker, or a true 
pioneer in that mine of truth which he said lay so deep. This 
which I have writ unto your Lordship is rather thoughts than 
words, being set down without art, i disguising, or reservation, 
wherein I have done honour, both to your Lordship's wisdom, in 
judging that that will best be believed by your Lordship which is 
truest, and to your Lordship's good nature, in retaining nothing 
from you. " 

Bacon wrote this letter from his lodging at Gray's Inn at the 
beginning of the year 1592. He was now just entering his thirty- 
second year, and, on the surface, little had appeared of his real 
life aud action. But still waters run deep. He had already 
accomplished enough to have filled the measure of a dozen ordi- 
nary hves, and apart from his own actual writings we have now 
abundant evidence to show how his vast plans for universal cult- 
ure and reformation were spreading— more abroad than at 
home, but everywhere, manifesting themselves in the revival, 
the " renaissance " of literature and science. 

The rearing of the new " Solomon's House " was begun. Poor 
as he was, almost solitary on the heights of thought, but yet with 
many willing minds struggling to approach aud relieve him, he 
knew with prophetic prescience that his work was growing, im- 
perishable, neither " subject to Time's love nor to Time's hate." 

No, it was builded far from accident ; 

It suifers not in smiling pomp, nor falls 
Under the blow of thralled discontent, 

Whereto the inviting time our fashion calls : 
It feels not policy, that heretic, 

Which works on leases of short-numbered hours; 
But all alone stands hugely politic. 2 

1 Spedding, L. L., 1. 109. Comp. Hamlet, ii. 2, 95-99, etc. 2 Sonnets cxxiv, cxsv. 



116 FRANCIS BACON 

To witness this he calls the fools of time. Wh at was it to him that 
he had " borne the canopy, with his externe the outward honour- 
ing"? Whilst living thus externally, as fortune forced him to 
do, as mere servant to greatness, a brilliant but reluctant hanger- 
on at the court, he was meanwhile collecting materials, digging 
the foundations, calling in helpers to " lay great bases for eter- 
nity. " 



CHAPTER V. 

PLAYWniGHT A2ID POET-PHILOSOPHER. 

"Playing, whoso end, both at the first and now, was, and is, to hold, as 'twere, 
the mirror up to nature ; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her ovni image, 
and the very ace and body of the time his form and pressure." 

■^ — Uamlet. 



A 



BOUT the year 1592 Bacon wrote a device entitled The 
Conference of Pleasure, i It was evidently prepared for 
some festive occasion, but whether or not it was ever performed 
in the shape in which it is seen in the existing manuscript, is 
Qot known. 

The paper book which contained this device bore on its out- 
side leaf a list of its original contents, but the stitches which 
fastened the sheets together have given way, or were intention- 
ally severed, and the central pages are gone — a great loss, 
when we know that these pages included copies of the plays of 
Richard II. and Bichard III., of which it would have been inter- 
esting to have seen the manuscript. 

The Conference of Pleasure represents four friends meeting 
for intellectual amusement, when each in turn delivers a speech 
in praise of whatever he holds " most worthy. " This explains 
the not very signiticaut title given to this work in the catalogue 
which is found upon the fly-leaf of the paper book: " Mr. Fr. 
Bacon Of Giving Tribute, or that which is due." 

The speeches delivered by the four friends are described as 
The Praise of the Worthiest Virtue, or Fortitude, " The Worthi- 
est Affection, "—Love ; " The Worthiest Power, "— Knowledge; 
and the fourth and last, "The Worthiest Person." This is 
the same that was afterwards printed a nd published under 

1 This device was edited by Mr. Spedding (1867) from the manuscript, which 
be found amongst a quantity of paper belonging to the Duke of Northumberland. 

{117) 



118 FRANCIS BACON 

the title of " Mr. Bacon in Praise of his Soveraigue. " It bears 
many iwints of resemblauce to Cranmer's speech in the last 
scene of Henrg VIII.,^ and is ostensibly a praise of Queen Eliza- 
beth. Covertly it is a praise of Bacon's sovereign lady, the 
Crowned Truth. The editor of the Conference observes, as so 
many others have done, that there is in the style of this piece A 
certain affectation and rhetorical cadence, traceable in Bacon's 
otber compositions of this kind, and agreeable to the taste of 
the time. He does not, however, follow other critics in saying 
that this courtly affectation was Bacon's style, or that the 
fact of his having written such a piece is sufficient to disprove 
him the author of other compositions written more naturally 
and easily. On the contrary, he describes this stilted language as 
so alien to his individual taste and natural manner, tbat there 
is no single feature by which his own style is more specially dis- 
tinguished, wherever he speaks in his own person, whether form- 
ally or familiarly, whether in the way of narrative, argument, 
or oration, than the total absence of it. " 

The truth is that the style of Francis Bacon was the best 
method, whatever that might be, for conveying to men's minds the 
knowledge or ideas which he was desirous of imparting. There 
should, he says, be " a diversity of methods according to the 
sidtject or matter ivhich is handled.''^ This part of I'nowledge of 
method in writing ho considers to have been so weakly inquired 
into as, in fact, to be deficient. He explains that there must be, 
in this " method of tradition," first the invention or idea of that 
which is to be imparted ; next, judgment upon the thing thought 
or imagined, and lastly, delivery, or imparting of the thought or 
idea. Then he shows that knowledge is not only for present use, 
but also for its own advancement and increase. With regard 
especially to i^resent use, he points out tbat there are times and 
seasons for knowledges, as for other things. How to begin, to 
insinuate knowledge, and how to refrain from seeming to attempt 
to teach? " It is an inquiry of great wisdom, what kinds of wits 

1 Further on we shall have occasion to show how in many of Bacon's poems, 
sonnets, etc., where "the Queen" is praised, the allusion is ambiguous, referring 
chiefly, though covertly, to Bacon's Sovereign Mistress, Truth. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 110 

aud natures are most apt aud proper for most sciences. " He is 
actually speaking of the use of mathematics iu steadying the 
mind, " if a child be bird-witted and hath not the faculty of 
attention ; " but he leads this argument into another which again 
brings before us his ideas about the immense importance of the 
stage. " It is not amiss to observe, also, how small and mean 
faculties, gotten by education, yet when they fall into great men 
and great matters, do work great and important effects; whereof 
we see a notable example in Tacitus, of two stage players, Per- 
cennius and Vibulenus, who, by their talent for acting, put the 
Pannonian armies into extreme tumult and combustion. For, 
there arising a mutiny amongst them upon the death of Au- 
gustus Caesar, Blsesas, the lieutenant, had committed some of 
the mutineers, which were suddenly rescued ; whereupon Vibu- 
lenus got to be heard speak — {atid charged Blcssas, in pathetic 
terms, tvith having caused his brother to be murdered) — with 
which speech he put the army into an infinite fury aud uproar; 
whereas, truth was, he had no brother, neither was there any such 
matter; but he played it merely as if he had been on the stage. " 
This anecdote is partly an illustration of what Bacon has 
previously been saying, that the duty of rhetoric is " to apply 
reason to imijination, for the better moving of the will." 
Ehetoric, therefore, may be made an aid to the morality whose 
end is to persuade the affections and passions to obey reason. 
He shows that '' the vulgar capacities " are not to be taught by 
the same scientific methods which are useful in the delivery of 
knowledge " as a thread to be spun upon, and which should, if 
possible, be insinuated " in the same method wherein it was 
invented. In short, matter, and not words, is the important 
thing; for words are the images of cogitations, and proper 
thought will bring proper words. It may in some cases be well 
to speak like the vulgar and think like the wise. This was an 
art in which Bacon himself is recorded to have been espe- 
cially skilful: he could imitate and adopt the language of the 
person with whom he was conversing and speak in any style. 
If so, could he not equally well tvrite in any style which best 
suited the matter in hand, which would most readily convey his 



120 FRANCIS BACON 

meaning to educated or uneducated ears, to minds prosaic or 
poetical, dull in spirit, and only to be impressed by plain and 
homely words, or not impressed at all, except the words were 
accompanied by gesture and action as if the speaker were 
'' upon the stage " ? 

And so Bacon was " content to tune the instruments of the 
muses, " that they should be fit to give out melodies and har- 
monies of any pitch, and suited to every frame of mind. In his 
acknowledged writings (which seem to be an ingenious map of, 
or clue to, his whole body of works) we find, as it were, 
samples of many and varied styles of writing which he desires 
to see studied and more perfectly used; and although in his 
greatest productions he has built up a noble model of language 
which the least observant reader must recognise as Baconian, 
yet there are amongst his writings some so unlike what might 
be expected from his pen, and so very unlike each other, as to 
dispel the idea that his many-sided mind required, like ordinary 
men, merely a one-sided language and " style " in which to 
utter itself. 

The manner of speaking or writing which pleases him best 
was plain and simple, "a method as wholesome as sweet." 
But, just as in the poems and plays which we attribute to him the 
styles are so various as to raise doubts, not only of the identity 
of the author, but even as to various portions of the same work, 
so the style of writing of the Gesta Grayorurn or the Conference 
of Pleasure is totally unlike the New Atlantis or the Con- 
fession of Faith. Neither is there, at first sight, anything which 
would cause the casual reader to identify the author of any of 
these with the Wisdom of the Ancients, or Life's a Bubble, or 
the History of the Winds, or the Essay of Friendship, or 
many more widely difi"erent works or portions of works known 
to have been written by Bacon. Because this is known, no one 
is so bold or so foolish as to point to the immense differences in 
style as proof that one man could not have written all. One man 
did write them; no one can challenge the statement, and conse- 
quently no question has arisen about this particular group of 
works; yet they differ amongst themselves more than, Individ- 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 121 

ually, they diflfer with a vast number of works not yet generally 
acknowledged to be Bacon's. They differ more essentially from 
each other than do the works of many dramatists and poets of 
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Their style is sometimes 
indistinguishable from treatises by various " authors. " In short, 
nothing but a complete comparative anatomy of Bacon's writings 
at different periods and on different topics would enable any 
one (without evidence of some other sort) to assert of every work 
of Bacon's that it was or was not of his composition; so varied is 
his style. 

To return to the paper book. Besides the pieces which are 
still contained in it, eight more appear to have formed part of 
the contents of this and another small volume of the same kind, 
now lost. According to the list on the cover the lost sheets 
should contain: 

1. The conclusion of Leycester's Commonwealth. 

2. The speeches of the six councillors to the Prince of Pur- 
poole, at the Grmjs Inn Bevels, 1594. The exterior sheet of the 
book has in the list. Orations at Gray^s Inn Bevels. 

3. Something of Mr. Frauncis Bacon's about the Queen's Mats. 

4. Essaies by the same author. 

5. Richard II. The editor calls these " Copies of Shakespeare's 
Plays. " The list does not say so. 

6. Richard III. 

7. Asniiin-l and Cornelia (a piece of wliich nothing is known). 

8. A play called T/ie/s/e o/Z)o/75. The induction and first act 
of this play are said to have been written by Thomas Nashe, and 
the rest by " the players. " No copy has been found of The Isle 
of Bogs; and after the title iu the list appears the abbreviated 
word frmnt.^ 

In a line beneath, " Thomas Nashe, inferior plaies.'^ 
It is curious and iateresting to observe the pains which are 
taken to explain away the simplest and most patent docu- 
mentary evidence which tends to prove Bacon's connection with, 
plays or poetry. The following is an instance : Commenting 

1 This seems to liavo puzzled tUo editor, but caa it mean more or less ttau 
"yVa^?;ieftt '7 



1 22 FEA NCIS BA CON 

upon the startling but undeniable fact of the two Shakespeare 
plays being found enumerated, with other plays not known, in a 
list of Bacon's works amongst his papers, the careful editor pro- 
ceeds to make easy things difficult by explanation and com- 
mentary : 

" That Richard II. and Richard III. are meant for the titles of 
Shakespeare's plays, so named, I infer from the fact — of -which 
the evidence maybe seen in the facsimile — that, the list of 
contents being now complete, the writer (or, more probably, 
another into wh )se possession the volume passed) has amusecl 
himself with writing down promiscuously the names and 
phrases that most ran in his head; and that among these the 
name of William Shakespeare was the most prominent, being 
written eight or nine times over for no other reason tliat can be 
discerned. That tlae name of Mr. Fraimcis Bacon, which is also 
repeated several times, should have been used for the same 
kind of recreation, requires no explanation. ... In the upper 
corner . . . may be seen the words ne vile velis, the motto of 
the Nevilles, twice repeated, and there are other traces of the 
name of Neville. Other exercises of the same kind are merely 
repetitions of the titles which stand opposite, or ordinary words 
of compliment, familiar in the beginnings and endings of let- 
ters, with here and there a scrap of verse, such as : 

Kevealing day through every cranio peepes, 
"Or, 

Midlis annis jam transactis, 
Nulla fides est in pactis, 
Mel in ore, verba lactis; 
Fell ill corde, fraiis in, faciis. 

" And most of the rest appear to be merely exercises in writing 
th or sh; . . . but the only thing, so far as I can see, which 
requires any particular notice is the occurrence, in this way, of 
the name of William Shakespeare ; and the value of that depends, 
in a great degree, upon the date of the writing, which, I fear, 
cannot be determined with any approach to exactness. All I 
can say is that I find nothing ... to indicate a date later than 
the reign of Elizabeth; and if so, it is probably one of the ear- 
liest evidences of the growth of Shaksi)ere's personal fame as 
a dramatic author, the beginning of which cannot be dated 
much earlier than 1598. It was not till 1597 that any of his 
plays appeared in print; and though tlie earliest editions of 
Richard II., Richard III, and Romeo and Juliel all bear that 
date, his name is not on the title-pnge of any of them. They 
were set forth as plays which had been 'lately,' or 'publicly,' or 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 123 

'often with great applause,' acted by the Lord Chamberlain's 
servants. Their title to favour was their popularity as acting 
plays at the Globe; and it was not till they came to be read as 
t)ooks that it occurred to people unconnected with the theatre 
to ask who wrote thera. It seems, however, that curiosity was 
speedily and eftectually excited by the publidation, for in the 
very next year a second edition of both the Richards appeared, 
with the name of William Shakespeare on the title page; and 
the practice was almost iuvariably followed by all publishers on 
like occasions afterwards. We may conclude, therefore, that it 
was about 1597 that play-goers and readers of plays began to 
talk about him, and that his name would naturally present 
itself to an idle penman in want of something to use his pen 
upon. What other inferences will be drawn from its appearance 
on the cover of this manuscript by those who start with the 
conviction that Bacon, and not Shakespeare, was the real author 
of Richard II. and Richard III., I cannot say; but to myself 
the fact which I have mentioned seems quite sufficient to account 
for the phenomenon. " i 

The phenomenon does not seem to require any explanation. 
Everything in the list, excepting the plays, is known to be 
Bacon's. Essays, orations, complimentary speeches for festivals, 
letters written for, and in the names of, the Earls of Arundel, 
Sussex, and Essex. Only the plays are called " copies, " because 
in their second editions, when men first began to be curious as 
to the " concealed poet," and Hay ward, or some other, was to 
be " racked to produce the author," the name Shakespeare was 
printed on the hitherto anonymous title-page. The practice 
was so common at that date as to cause much bewilderment 
and confusion to the literary historian; and this confusion was, 
probably, the very effect which that cause was intended to 
produce. 

It is worthy of note that in the writing-case, or portfolio, 
which belonged to Bacon (and which is in the possession of 
the Howard family at Arundel) a sheet is found similarly 
scribbled over with the name WilUam Shakespeare. Consider- 
ing the amount of argument which has been expended upon 
the subject of the scribbled names on the fly-leaf of the Con- 
ference of Pleasure, it would appear too strange for credibility 

1 Introduction to the Conference of Pleasure, p. xxiv. 



124 FBANCIS BACON 

that this witness of Bacon's own portfolio should be ignored, 
were it not that we now have other and such strong proofs of a 
combination to suppress particulars of this kind. 

Besides the name of Shakespeare, there are, on the outer leaf 
of the manuscript book, some other curious jottings which are to 
our point. The amanuensis, or whosoever he may have been, who 
beguiled an hour of waiting by trying his pen, scribbles, with 
the name Shakespeare, some allusions to other plays besides 
Richard II. and Richard III. 

Love's Labours Lost satirises "the diseases of style," and 
" errors and vanities, " which Bacon complains were intermixed 
with the studies of learned men, and which " caused learning 
itself to be traduced." The utterances of Holofernes, Na- 
thaniel, Biron, and Armado, respectively, illustrate the " vain 
affections, disputes, and imaginations, the effeminate and fantas- 
tical learning, " which infected all the teaching and the books 
of the period. 

Making fun of the pedantic talk of Holofernes and his 
friends, the pert page Moth declares that " they have been 
at a feast of languages and stolen the scraps. " 

Costard answers : " Oh ! they have lived long on the alms- 
basket of words. I marvel thy master hath not eaten thee for a 
word; for thou art not so long by the head as Honorificabilitudi- 
nitatibus. " 

This alarming polysyllable was in the mind of the amanuensis, 
though his memory failed before he got through the thirteen 
articulations, and he curtails it to " Honorijicabilitudino." jet 
cannot we doubt that this amanuensis had seen in or about the 
year 1592 the play of Lovers Labour's Lost, which was not pub- 
lished or acted until 1598. 

The scrap of English verse, in like manner, shows the aman- 
uensis to have been acquainted with the poem of Lucrece, pub- 
lished for the first time in 1594, or two years after the supposed 
date of the scribble. Writing from memory, the copyist makes 
a misquotation. In the poem is the line : 

" Revealing day through every cranio spies,^' 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 125 

But he writes : 

"Revealing day through every crame peepes.'" 

A confusion, doubtless, between tliis line and one which fol- 
lows, where the word peeping is used. 

In Love's Labour's Lost, v. 2, the whole scene turns upon the 
ideas involved in the Latin hues which are also written on this 
communicative fly-leaf : 

Mel in ore, verba lactis; 
Fell in corde, fraus in factis. 

Biron's way of talking is, throughout the scene, compared, 
for its ultra suavity, to honey and milk : 

Biron. "White-handed mistress, one sweet word with you. 
Princess. Honey and milk and sugar — there are three . 

After a quibble or two on Biron's part, the Princess begs 
that the word which he wishes to have with her may not be sweet : 

Biron. Thou griev'st my gaU. 
Princess. Gall? bitter. 

Presently, in the same scene, the affectations of another young 
courtier are satirised, and he is called " Honey-tongued Boyet." 
Perhaps the scribe knew from whence his employer derived the 
metaphors of talk, as sweet, honied, sugared, and smoother than 
milk, and, antithetically, the gall of hitter tvords. i 

There are many proofs that Bacon utilised his talents by writ- 
ing speeches for his friends, to deliver on important occasions, 
and for public festivities. 

1 It is observable that the name Shakespeare on the fly-leaf of the Conference, 
though wi-itten some dozen times, is invariably spelt as it was ■printed on the title- 
pages of the plays, and not as ho, or any of his family, in any known mstance, 
wrote it during his lifetime. The family of Shakspere, Shakspeyr, Shakspurre, 
Shakespere,or Shaxpoare never could make up their minds how to spell therr 
names. Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that their friends never 
could decide for them. There are at least fourteen ditferent spellings, of which 
Shaxpeare is the most frequent, and appears sixty-nine times in the Stratford 
records. It seems as if the author of the plays must have made some compact 
•with the family, which prevented them from adopting, till long after Shaks- 
pere's death, the spelling of the pseudonym. The doctrine of chances, one 
would think, must have caused one or more to hit upon the printed variety, in 
some signature or register. See, for excellent information on this matter, 
" The Shakespeare Myth," p. 170, etc.— Appleton Morgan. 



126 FRANCIS BACON' 

" As Essex aspired to distinction in many ways, so Bacon 
studied many ways to help him, among the rest by contribut- 
ing to those fanciful pageants or ' devices,' as they were called, 
with which it was the fashion of the time to entertain the Queen 
on festive occasions. On the anniversary of her coronation in 
1595, we happen to know positively (though only by the concur- 
rence of two accidents) that certain speeches, unquestionably 
written by Bacon, were delivered in a device presented by Essex; 
and I strongly suspect that two of the most interesting among 
his smaller pieces were drawn up for some similar performance 
in the year 1592. I mean those which arc entitled " Mr. Bacon 
in Praise of Knowledge," and " Mr. Bacon's Discourse in Praise 
of his Sovereign." i 

" My reason for suspecting they were composed for some 
masque, or show, or other fictitious occasion, is partly that the 
speech in praise of knowledge professes to have beeri spoken in a 
Conference of Pleasure, and the speech in praise of Elizabeth 
appears by the opening sentence to have been preceded by three 
others, one of which teas in praise of knowledge. " 

The writer goes on to say that he has little doubt about this 
device having been written by Bacon for performance on the 
Queen's day, though, unfortunately, no detailed account remains 
5fthe celebration of that day in 1592; we only know that it w\is 
" more solemnised than ever, and that through my Lord of Essex 
Ms device. "2 The reporter Nicholas Faunt, " being a strict Puri- 
tan, and having no taste for devices," adds no particulars, but 
an incidental expression in a letter from Henry Gosnold, a young 
lawyer in Gray's Inn, tells us that Francis was at this time 
attending the court:—" Mr. Fr. Bacon is,maulgre the court, your 
kind brother and mine especial friend. " 

The Praise of Knoivledge, which sums up many of Bacon's 
most daring philosophical speculations, as to the revival, spread, 

1 These were found among the papers submitted to Stephens by Lord Oxford, 
and printed by Locker in the supplomont to his second collection in 1734. The 
MSS. are still to be seen in the British Museum, fair copies in an old hand, 
with the titles given above, but no further explanation. 

2 Nich. Faunt to A. Bacon, Nov. 20, 1592— Lambeth MSS. G48, 170. 



AND HIS St:CRET SOCIETY. 127 

and ultimate catholicity of learning, — the happy match which 
shall be made between the mind of man and the nature of things, 
and the ultimate " mingling of heaven and earth," — is printed 
in Spedding's Letters and Life of Bacon,^ and should be read 
and considered by all who care to understand what Dr. Kawley 
describes as certain " grounds and notions within himself," or, 
as it is elsewhere said, " fixed and universal ideas " which came 
to him in his youth, and abode with him to the end of his life. 

This speech is succeeded by the far longer Discourse in Praise 
of the Queen — " an oration which for spirit, eloquence, and sub- 
stantial worth may bear a comparison with the greatest pane- 
gyrical orations of modern times. " 2 The biographer explains 
that, although this oration seems too long and elaborate to hare 
been used as part of a court entertainment, yet it might have 
been (and probably was) worked upon and enlarged afterwards, 
and that the circumstances under which it was delivered caused 
it to be received as something of much greater importance than 
a mere court compliment. 

Probably no one who has read the life and works of Bacon is 
so foolish and unsympathetic as to believe that such a man, in 
exalting the theatre, writing for it, interesting others in its 
behalf, had no higher aim than to amuse himself and his friends, 
still less to profit by it, or even to make himself a name as a 
mere playwright. 

Considering merely the position which he held as a man of 
letters and a philosopher, it is impossible to conceive that for 
such purposes he would have risked his reputation and pros- 
pects — running in the face of public opinion, which was strong 
against stage-playing, and risking the displeasure of most of the 
members of his own Puritan family, some of whom would surely 
hear reports of what he was doing. 

1 i. 12a-126. 

2 See the remarks in Spedding, Letters and Life, i. 143, on this piece. The 
editor shows its fitness for the occasion when it was delivered. Yet we are 
convinced tluit it had a second and still more important aim than that which at 
first sight apjtears. There wcut no need to anxwer an invective against the Govern- 
ment, when Bacon ordered the printing and publication of this speech to be 
done after his death. 



128 FRANCIS BACON 

In 1594 Anthony Bacon, that " dearest brother," " Antonie 
my comforte, " had lately returned from Italy and had joined 
Francis in Gray's Inn; but he did not stay there long. Soon 
afterwards, to the alarm and displeasure of his mother, Lady 
Anne, he removed from these lodgings to a house in Bishop's Gate 
Street, close to the Bull Inn. Here there was a theatre at which 
several of the Shakespeare plays were performed, and from this 
date the plays of Shakespeare, Ben Jonson and " twenty more 
such names and men as these " pour on to the stages of this and 
other theatres. What share had Anthony in the writing and 
" producing " of these plays? 

The Christmas revels in which the students of Gray's Inn had 
formerly prided themselves were for some cause intermitted for 
three of four years. In the winter of 1594 they resolved to re- 
deem the time by producing " something out of the common 
way." As usual, Francis Bacon is called in to assist in " recov- 
ering the lost honour of Gray's Inn." The result was a device, 
or elaborate burlesque, which turned Gray's Inn into a mimic 
court for which a Prince of Purpoole and a Master of the Revels 
were chosen, and the sports were to last for twelve days. 

The Prince, with all his state, proceeded to the Great Hall of 
Gray's Inn on December 20th, and the entertainment was so 
gorgeous, so skilfully managed, and so hit off the tastes of the 
times, that the players were encouraged to enlarge their plan, 
and to raise their style. They resolved, therefore (besides all 
this court pomp, and their daily sport amongst themselves), to 
have certain " grand nights, " in which something special should 
be performed for the entertainment of strangers. But the ex- 
citement produced on the first grand night, and the throng, 
which was beyond everything which had been expected, 
crowded the hall so that the actors were driven from the stage. 
They had to retire, and when the tumult j)artly subsided, they 
were obliged, in default of " those very good inventions and 
conceits " which had been intended, to content themselves with 
dancing and revelling, and when that was over, with A Comedy 
of Errors, like to Plautus his Mencechmus, which was played by 



AND HIS SECUET SOCIETY. 129 

the players. As this was, according to Dr. Dehus, the first allu- 
sion to the Comedy of Errors —m other words, since this comedy 
was, for the first time, heard of and acted in Gray's Inn, at the 
revels of Decemher, 159i— we may well suppose that this play 
was the very " invention and conceit " arranged by Francis 
Bacon for the occasion; and that, whilst the dancing went on, 
he took the opportunity of getting things set straight which 
were disordered by the unexpected throng of guests, after 
which the comedy was " played by the players, " according to 
the original plan. This was on December 28th. 

The next night was taken up with a mock-legal inquiry into 
the causes of these disorders, and after this, (which was a broad 
parody upon the administration of justice by the Crown in Coun- 
cil), they held a grand consultation for the recovery of their lost 
honour, which ended in a resolution " that the Prince's Council 
should be reformed, and some graver conceits should have their 
places." Again Bacon is to the front, and it is a striking proof 
of the rapidity with which he was able to devise and accomplish 
any new thing, that in four or five days he had written and 
" produced " an entertainment which is described as " one of the 
most elegant that was ever j)resented to an audience of states- 
men and courtiers. " It was performed on Friday, January 3, 
1595, and was called The Order of the Helmet. This entertain- 
ment (which is in many ways suggestive of the Masonic cere- 
monies) includes nineteen articles, which the knights of the 
order vowed to keep; they are written in Bacon's playful, 
satirical style, and full from beginning to end of his ideas, 
theories, doctrines, antitheta, allusions, and metaphors. To 
these follow seven speeches. The first, by the Prince of Pur- 
poole, gives a sly hit at other princes, who, like Prince Hal, 
" conclude their own ends out of their own humours, " and 
abuse the wisdom of their counsellors to set them in the right 
way to the icrong place. The prince gives his subjects free leave 
to set before us " to tvhatport, as it toere, the ship of our govern- 
ment should be hounden. " 
" The first counsellor," then evidently having Bacon's notes 



130 FRANCIS BACON 

on the subject ready to liand,i delivers a speech, " advising the 
exercise of war; " the second counsellor extols the study of 
philosophy. This counsellor is very well read in Shakespeare. 
He describes witches, lohose poiver is in destruction, not in preser- 
vation, 2 and advises the Prince not to be like them or like some 
comet or Mazing star^ tvhich should threaten and portend nothing 
hut death and dearth, combustions and troubles of the world. He 
begs him to be not as a lamp that shineth not to others, and yet 
seeth not itself, but as the eye of the world, that both carrieth 
and useth light. To this purpose he commends to him the col- 
lecting of a perfect library of books, ancient and modern, and of 
MSS. in all languages; of a spacious, wonderful garden (botanic 
and zoological gardens in one), " built about with rooms to 
stable all rare beasts and to cage all rare birds, " and with lakes, 
salt and fresh, " for like variety of fishes. And so you may have 
in small compass a model of universal nature made private.''^ 
Thirdly, he proposes " a goodly huge cabinet," a museum of all 
the rarities and treasures of nature and art, wherein shall be 
collected " whatsoever singularity chance and the shuffle of 
things, hath produced." The fourth " monument " which is to 
perpetuate the fame of the Prince is to be " so furnished with 
mills, instruments, furnaces, and vessels as may be a palace fit 
for a p)^^^^osop)her''s stone." Laboratories for experimental 
science are here indicated; they are, we see, the same as are 
more fully described in the Eosicrucian journey, Neiv Atlantis, 
and it appears probable that they expressed in the device, as in the 
Eosicrucian document, a meaning and aim which tended to unite 
the works of Vulcan (art) with those of Minerva (wisdom or 
nature). 5 



1 Seo Spedding — Militaiy arts compatible -with learning, iii. 269; promoted 
by it, iii. 307-314 ; when just, successful, iv. 28, 29 ; warlike disposition the 
strength of a nation, v. 81; injured by the sedentary arts, v. 84; healthful, 
X. 85 ; the history of war, proposed, as deficient, iv. 270. 

2 See Macb. i. 3, 18-29; iii. 5, 24-.34; iv. 1, 48-60. 

3 Jul. Caes. ii. 2, 25-30. All's W. i. 3, 81-85. Macb. ii. 3, 55-60. 

4 " A small model of the barren earth." Richard II. iii. 2. 

5 See Essay of Erichthouius. Spedding, "Works, vi. 736. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 131 

Then follows the third counsellor, advising ctcrnisement and 
fame hij buildings and foundations. This speech is written with 
the same metaphors and emblems which we find elsewhere in 
Bacon's acknowledged works and in the documents of the 
Rosicrucians and Freemasons. Wars, it is agreed, often offer 
immoderate hopes which issue only in tragedies of calamities 
and distresses. Philosophies equally disappoint expectation, 
by turning mystical philosophy into comedies of ridiculous 
frustration, conceits and curiosities. But the day for a monarch 
to " win fame and eternize his name " is " in the visible memory 
of himself in the magnificence of goodly and royal buildings 
and foundations, and the new institution of orders, ordinances, and 
societies; that as your coin be stamped with your own image, so 
in every part of your state there may be something new, which, 
by continuance, may make the founder and author remem- 
bered. " 1 The desire " to acre mortalitg bi/fame " " caused men 
to build the Tower of Babel, which, as it was a sin in the im- 
moderate appetite for fame, so it was puuished in kind; for the 
diversities of languages have imprisoned fame ever since. " He 
goes on to show that the fame of Alexander, Caesar, Constantine, 
and Trajan was thought by themselves to rest not so much upon 
their conquests as in their buildings. " And surely they had 
reason; for the fame of great actions is Wke to a landflood ivMch 
hath no certain head or spring; but the memory and fame of 
buildings and foundations hath, as it were, a fountain in a hill 
which continuaUy refresheth and feedcth the other zvaters.''^ 

The fourth counsellor advises absoluteness of state and 
treasure. His speech will be found paraphrased and more 
gravely and earnestly traced in Bacon's essays oi Empire and of 
The Greatness of Kingdoms, and in other places which deal with 
similar subjects. 

The fifth counsellor advises the Prince to virtue and a gra- 
cious government. If he would " malxC golden times " he must be 



1 This passage aptly describes the principle upon which Bacon established 
his orders and societies. See chapters of the Rosicrucians and Freemasons. 

2 See Emblems— Hill, Water, etc. 



132 FRANCIS BACON 

" a natural parent to the state. " The former speakers have, says 
this counsellor, handled their own propositions too formally. 
" My Lords have taught you to refer all things to yourself, your 
greatness, memory, and advantage, but whereunto shall yourself 
be referred? If you will be heavenly, you must have intiuence. 
Will you he as a standing pool, that spencleth and choketh his 
spring ivithin itself, and hath no streams nor current to bless and 
make fruitful ivhole tracts of countries loherehy it cometh f . . . 
Assure yourself of an intvard peace, that the storms without do 
not disturb any of your repairs within; . . . visit all the parts of 
your state, and let the balm distill everywhere from your sovereign 
hands, to the medicining of any part that comjilaineth; . . . have 
a care that your intelligence, ivhich is the light of your state, do not 
hum dim; . . . advance men of virtue, not of mercenary minds; 
. . . purge out multiplicity of laws; . . . repeal those that are 
snaring, and press the execution of those that are wholesome and 
necessary; . . . think not that the bridle and spur will make the 
horse go alone toithout time and custom; . . . tvhen you have 
confirmed the noble and vital parts of your realm of state, proceed 
to take care of the blood, and flesh, and good habit of the body. 
Remedy all cankers and causes of consumption. " i The speaker 
ends by saying that, if he wished to commend the beauty of 
some excelling lady, he could best do it by showing her picture; 
so it is in commending a virtuous government, though he fears 
that his " pencil may disgrace it, " and therefore leaves the 
prince to fill in the picture for himself. 

He is succeeded by the sixth and last counsellor, who 
" persuades to pastimes and sports. " The speeches of his 
predecessors were, he thought, ** as if a man should come to 
some young prince, and, immediately after his coronation, be in 
hand with him to make himself a sumptuous and stately tomb, 
and, to speak out of my soul, I muse how any of your servants 
can endure to think of you as of a prince past ; . . . their lessons 
were so cumbersome, as if they would make you a king in a play, 
who, ivhen one would think he standeth in great majesty and 

1 Compare Emblems and Metaphors of Bacon. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 133 

felicity, he is troubled to say Ms part. What! nothing hut tasks; 
nothing but ivorking days f No feasting, no music, no dancing, 
no triumphs, no comedies, no love, no ladies f Let other men^s 
lives he as pilgrimages; . . . princes' lives are, as progresses, 
dedicated only to variety and solace. " 

(Again an echo of the speeches of Theseus and Philostra- 
tus in A Midsummer Nighfs Bream, quoted before.i) 

This lively counsellor entreats his prince to leave the work to 
other people, and to attend only to that which cannot be done 
by deputy. " Use the advantage of your youth; . . . in a 
tvord, sweet sovereign, dismiss your five counsellors, and only take 
counsel of your five senses.'" 

The prince briefly thanks them all for their good opinions, 
which being so various, it is difticult to choose between them. 
" Meantime it should not be amiss to choose the last, and upon 
more deliberation to determine of the rest; and what time we 
spend in long consulting, in the end we gain by prompt and 
speedy executing." Thereupon he takes a partner, and the 
dance begins. The rest of the night was spent in this pastime, 
and the nobles and other auditory, says the narrator, were so 
delighted with their entertainment, that " thereby Gray's Inn 
did not only recover their lost credit, but got instead so much 
honour and applause as either the good reports of our friends 
that were present or we ourselves could desire." 

In this same year, 1595, Lucrece was published, and dedicated, 
as the poem of Venus and Adonis had been also dedicated in 
1593, to Francis Bacon's young friend, Lord Southampton, who 
is said to have given a large sum of money toward the erection 
of the " Globe " theatre, which was in this year opened on 
Baukside with William Shakspere as its manager.2 

Until Anthony Bacon's return from Italy Francis was 
very poor, and often in debt, and, although he lived frugally 

1 See Mid. N. Dream, v. 1, and Rich. p. iii. 4. L. L. L. iv. 3, 370-380, etc. 

2 This gift was held by Shakspereans to be an evidence of Southampton's 
friendship for Shakspere. Baconians see in it an evidence of the .young Earl's 
desire to assist in the production of the dramatic works of his friend and asso- 
ciate, Francis Bacon. 



134 FRANCIS BACON 

and temperately, he was at one time forced to get help from the 
Jews. Though Anthony was better off and able to help him, 
Francis could hardly contrive to live as a gentleman and at the 
same time to publish and carry forward scientific researches as we 
find him doing. Anthony was performing the part of secretary 
to the Earl of Essex, a work in which his brother shared, Anthony 
writing his letters and drafting his despatches to secret agents 
in foreign lands; Francis aiding him in getting information, and 
in steering his course through the shifting sands of the political 
stream. He drew up for Essex that remarkable paper on his 
conduct at court, which should have been the rule, and would 
certainly have been the salvation, of his life.i These services, 
occasional on the part of Francis, daily on the part of Anthony, 
led them into expenses which they ought to have been repaid. 
No salary had been fixed for Francis, but Anthony was to have 
received a thousand pounds a year, none of which was ever 
paid him. 2 It was probably on account of the large outstanding 
debt to the brothers that Essex sued to the Queen for the places 
of Solicitor-General or Attorney- General for Francis Bacon. It is 
probable that, had it not been for his interference, Bacon would at 
this time have been appointed to the former of these olfices. But 
the injudicious and arrogant behaviour of Essex, which was a 
constant subject of remonstrance from Bacon, now again de- 
stroyed Bacon's hopes of obtaining a substantial position and 
means of livelihood. The Queen would not be driven, nor sus- 
pected of bestowing offices at the bidding of her fascinating but 
troublesome kinsman. Bacon was again passed over, and re- 
tired much hurt, and feeling disgraced in the eyes of the world, 
to Twickenham, where, perhaps, he employed himself in writ- 
ing some of his comedies. For in consequence, perhaps, of this 
episode , or in part payment of his large debt to the brothers, Essex 
granted Francis a piece of land worth about £1,800, adjoining 
the estate of his half-brother, Edward Bacon, at Twickenham. 

1 Hepworth Dixon, Stoiy. p. 53. Ath. Cant. ii. 315. Devereux, Lives of 
the Earls of Essex, i. 277. Syanej'- Papers, i. 360. 

2 It is very probable in view of the Rosicrucian rules, which wo shall coa- 
sider further on, that the Bacons would, not bejxud for this work. 



AND MIS SECRET SOCIETY. 135 

To this year, when Bacon was in retirement at Twickenham, 
The Merchant of Venice, and A Midsummer Night's Dream are 
attributed. In the first of these " the hard Jew " who persecuted 
Francis Bacon is immortalised in the person of Shylocls, whilst 
in Antonio we recognise the generous brother, Anthony 
Bacon, who sacrificed himself and '' taxed his credit " in order 
to relieve Francis, i 

A Midsummer NighVs Dream is the first piece in which Bacon, 
whilst creating his fairies from "■ the vital spirits of nature, " 
brings his studies of the winds to his help.2 This play, 
as has been said, bears points of strong resemblance to the 
Device of an Indian Prince, which Bacon had written a few 
months previously, when the stormy passages between the 
Queen and Essex had passed away, and when the Earl had ap- 
parently applied to him for a device which should be performed 
on the " Queen's Day." 

January 27, 1595, is the latest date on any sheet in Bacon's 
Promus of Formularies (end Elegancies. Judged by the hand- 
writing, it appears to be the latest sheet, although it is not 
placed last in the collection of MSS. One entry is sug- 
gestive 3—" Law at Twickenham for ye merry tales." The 
merry tales for which Bacon was thus preparing Laiv, are sup- 
posed to be those already named, with The Taming of the Shrew, 
King John, two parts of Henry IV. and AlPs Well that Ends Well, 
soon to appear, and full of abstruse points of law, such as after- 
wards exercised the mind of Lord Campbell. The play of 
Eichard III. is attributed to 1591 by Dr. Delius, but the list of 
Bacon's MSS. on the outside leaf of the Conference of Pleas- 
ure seems to show that Richard II. and III. were sketched to- 
gether, though apparently the former was not heard of till the 

year 1596. 

Very little is known for some years of the private proceedings 
of Bacon. He had no public business of importance, and it is 

1 Note, Antonio, in Twelfth Night, is another impersonation of the same gen- 
erous and unselfish character. 

2 See Of Yital Spirits of Nature. 

3 Promus, 1165. The Promus is a MS. collection of Bacon's private notes. 



136 FBANCIS BACON 

evident that the published records of his work are not by any 
means adequate. With his tremendous energy and powers, the 
scanty information concerning him assures us that at this time 
he was either travelling or most busy upon his secret and unac- 
knowledged works. In 1596-7 he wrote the Colours of Good 
and Evil, and the Meditatlones Sacrcc, for which preparations 
are found amongst the Promus notes ; a speech in Parliament 
against enclosures, and a general statement that he continued 
his scientific studies, are all that is recorded as to his labours at 
that time. No doubt, however, that, amongst other matters, he 
was preparing the first edition of his essays, which were pub- 
lished in the following year {with a dedication " to Mr. Anthony 
Bacon, Ms deare brother, you that are next my self ^^). Money 
troubles still continued, which may be explained in the same 
manner as before. All his money, and Anthony's as well, was 
going in the expense of publishing, in getting up plays, and in 
other enterprises connected with his great schemes. 

In a letter of October 15, 1597, written to the Earl of Shrews- 
bury from Gray's Inn, Francis Bacon requests the loan of a 
horse and armour for some public show. In another letter to 
Lord M6untjoy, he says that " it is now his manner and rule to 
keep state in contemplative matters." Clearly much trouble 
was taken to obscure his history and his private proceedings 
about this period. 

In letters to Sir Tobie Matthew, i with dates and other partic- 
ulars mysteriously obliterated or garbled, Bacon, whilst alluding 
by name to several of his acknowledged works, which Sir Tobie 
had been reading and criticising, speaks (without naming them) 
of his " other works, " " works of his recreation. " Elsewhere 
he refers to other works, but does not specify them. They are 



1 Sir Tobio Matthew, son of the Bishop of Durham, afterwards Archbishop 
of Tork, was an early friend of Bacon, and one whom he calls his "kind in- 
quisitor," since he was in the habit of sending his works for Matthew's perusal 
and criticism. A collection of his letters (London, 1660) is extant. These 
letters are without dates. Tobie Matthew appears to have purposely obliterated 
or disguised names and particulars. If the "headings were inserted by him- 
self, he had either forgotten the dates or intended to confuse and conceal 
them." (Spedding, Letters and Life, iv. 132.) 



AND HIS SECBEI SOCIETY. 137 

" deeds without a name, " which, in this correspondence, are re- 
ferred to as the Alphabet, a pass-word, perhaps, for his Trage- 
dies and Comedies, since, in his private notes, or Pronius, there 
is this entry (before 1594) : 

" lisdem e' Uteris effidtur tragcedia et comedia." 
"Tragedies and comedies are made of one aljihabet." 

In 1598 the Queen, who had again quarrelled with Essex, was 
greatly offended by the play of Richard II., which plainly 
alluded to the troubles in Ireland, with which he was concerned. 
Not only had this new play drawn crowds of courtiers and cit- 
izens to the Globe Theatre, when first it appeared, but it had a 
long and splendid run, being played not only in the theatre, 
but in the open street and in the court-yards of inns. The 
Earl of Essex (who, before his voyage, had been a constant 
auditor at the Globe) lent the play his countenance; it is even 
said that lie ordered it to be played at his own expense, when 
Phillips, the manager, declared that the piece had been so long 
before the public that another performance could not pay. No 
wonder, then, that the Queen was angry and disturbed by this 
play, which, she thought, was part of a plot to teach her sub- 
jects how to murder kings. " I am Richard, " she said; " know 
you not that?" 

A pamphlet by a young doctor of civil law, John Hayward, 
published almost simultaneously with the play, increased the 
Queen's wrath and apprehension. Taking as its basis the story 
of the play, this pamphlet drew from it morals which were sup- 
posed to be seditious. In one place it even afiQrmed the exist- 
ence of a title superior to the Queen.i This book proved too 
much for Ehzabeth's patience, and, sending the scribe t^ prison, 
she summoned Francis Bacon " to draw up articles against 
him," says the biographer; but, perhaps, also, because she had 
reason to think that Bacon would know more than others about 
the matter. Bacon, in his Apophthegms, or witty sayings, and 
again in his Apologia concerning Essex, relates this episode. 



1 See EmUems and Metaphors, Queen. "We think that time maj' alter 
judgment and interpretation of this pamphlet. 



138 FBANCIS BACON 

But he, apparently, intentionally and ingeniously confuses his 
story, in the same manner of which examples will be given in 
the chapter on " Feigned Histories;^' in the same way, too, as 
the accounts of the origin of Freemasonry are garbled and 
mixed up, in order to puzzle the uninitiated reader. 

He remembers (he says in the Apologia) an answer of his " in 
a matter which had some affinity with my Lord of Essex's cause, 
which, though it grew from me, went after about in others^ namesA 
For her Majesty, being mightily incensed with that book which 
was dedicated to my Lord (being a story of the first year of King 
Henry IV.), thinking it a seditious prelude to put into the 
people's heads boldness and faction, said she had a good 
opinion there was treason in it, and asked me if I coald not find 
any places in it that might be drawn within case of treason ; 
whereunto I answered, for treason surely found I none, but for 
felony very many. And when her Majesty hastily asked me 
wherein? I told her the author had committed very apparent 
theft, for he had taken most of the sentences of Cornelius 
Tacitus and translated them into English, and put them into his 
text." 

This we see is of the play; but the story continues: " Another 
time, when the Queen would not be persuaded that it was his 
writing whose name was to it, but that it had some more mis- 
chievous author, and said, with great indignation, that she 
would have him racked to produce his author, I replied, ' Nay, 
Madame, he is a doctor [Bacon, therefore, had now turned the 
argument on to Br. Hay ward's pamphlet] ; never rack his person, 
rack his stile; let him have pens, ink, and paper, and help of 
books, ^nd be enjoined to continue the story where it leaves off, 
and I will undertake, by collecting the stiles, to judge whether 
he were the author or no.' " It should be observed that Bacon 
does not propose to " collect " or collate the style of the pam- 
phlet with that of the play, which would be the obvious thing 
to do if the author of the obnoxious play and the author of the 
equally obnoxious pamphlet were supposed to be in collusion. 

1 Dogs this enigmatical sentence mean that the play in question was his, 
although it passed under the name of another? 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 139 

His object, evidently, is to get the young doctor of law (prob- 
ably a member of his secret society) ont of the difficulties into 
which he had fallen through his complicity in the publication of 
a political squib against tyranny, which Bacon was well aware 
that Dr. Hay ward did not write. 

Does no one think it strange that Francis Bacon should have 
told the Queen that the finest passages in Richard II. are taken 
from Cornelius Tacitus and translated into English in that text, 
and yet that no commentator on Shakespeare, no student of Taci- 
tus, should have been at the pains of pointing out these passages? 
They must be cleverly used, to be so indistinguishable to these 
learned readers, for they are there. 

And is it to be taken as a mere matter of course that Bacon, 
who as a rule mentions himself so little, should have recorded 
this scene and his own speech amongst his collection of witty 
sayings, when that speech (which is not very witty) would have 
had no point if it had not been true? 

And we ask again. Did it not appear strange to Queen Eliza- 
beth that Bacon should show such intimate knowledge of the 
sources from which some of the chief passages in Richard II. 
were derived — a knowledge beyond any which has been dis- 
played by the most learned and authentic Shakespeare societies 
which have existed until now? 

These episodes about Dr. Hayward's tract and the play of 
Richard II. incline us to a conviction, which is strengthened by 
other evidence, that Queen Ehzabeth had a very shrewd suspi- 
cion, if not an absolute knowledge, that Francis Bacon was inti- 
mately connected with the revival of the stage in her times. 
Sometimes it almost seems as if she had a still deeper acquaint- 
ance with the aims and objects of his life; that sometimes she 
disapproved, and was only kept from ventin^f upon him all the 
vials of her wrath, first by her strong esteem and regard for his 
father, Sir Nicholas Bacon, and secondly, by her admiration of 
Francis Bacon himself. It seems not impossible that the Queen's 
reverence for Sir Nicholas may have been increased by her 
knowledge of his schemes for the revival of learning, and she 
may have known, probably did know, that it was the aim of the 



140 FBANCIS BACON 

son to carry out the plans of his father. All this is conjectured, 
though based upon observation of small particulars. Yet it does 
not appear that the Queen, although she admired Francis, ever 
valued him as equal to his father. On the contrary, she often 
thwarted him, or publicly passed him over in a manner which 
was very painful to him. Probably, as is so often the case with 
old people, she could not comprehend that tlie son, whom she 
looked on as a boy, would so far outshine the father that the 
latter should hereafter be chiefly known as " Francis Bacon's 
father." 

On the occasion of the marriage of the Princess Elizabeth 
with the Count Palatine, February 14, 1612-13, the usual rejoic- 
ings took place: triumphs, fire- works, sham fights upon the water, 
masques, running at the ring, and the rest of it, " concerning 
which," says Spedding, i " it would not have been necessary to 
say anything were it not that Bacon took a principal part in the 
preparation of one of the masques. " This was the joint masque 
presented by the gentlemen of Gray's Inn and the Inner Tem- 
ple, " written by Francis Beaumont, " and printed shortly after 
with the following dedication : 

" To THE WORTHY SiR FRANCIS BaCON, HIS MAJESTY'S SOLIC- 
ITOR-GeNERAL, and THE GRAVE AND LEARNED BENCH OF 
THE ANCIENTLY ALLIED HOUSES OF GRAY'S INN AND THE 

Inner Temple, the Inner Temple and Gray's Inn. 

" Ye that spared no pain nor travail in the setting forth, or- 
dering, and furnishing of this masque (being the first fruits of 
honour in this kind which these two societies have oflered to 
His Majesty), will not think much now to look back upon the 
effects of your own care and work; for that, whereof the success 
was then doubtful, is now happily performed, and graciously 
accepted; and that which you were then to think of in straits of 
time, you may now peruse at leisure. And you. Sir Francis 
Bacon, especially, as you did then by your countenance and 
loving affections advance it, so let your good word grace it and 
defend it, which is able to add value to the greatest and least 
matters." 

I Life q,nd Letters, iv. 343. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 141 

There we perceive that the gentlemen (exclusive of Bacon) 
who had taken so much pains in the setting forth of this impor- 
tant and almost national tribute of respect to the royal family 
are thanked for their aid in the " ordering and furnishing " of a 
masque with which, clearly, they were not as a whole well 
acquainted. They helped, as modern phrase has it, to " get 
up " the masque, but of its drift they had so little knowledge 
that what they could only think of in " straits of time," perhaps 
during the performance, they could now enjoy by reading it at 
leisure. None of these busy helpers, then, had contributed to 
the writing of the masque, and the wording of the dedication, 
although it does not say that Bacon was the author, yet seems 
to indicate as much; for it skilfully brings him to the front, and 
entirely ignores Beaumont, who, however, doubtless did " write " 
the masque — fair, tvith a pen and ink. 

" It is easy to believe," says the biographer, " that if Bacon 
took an active part in the preparations of a thing of this kind, in 
the success of which he felt an interest, he would have a good 
deal to say about all the arrangements. But as we have no 
means of knowing what he did say, and thereby learning some- 
thing as to his taste in this department,^ it will be well to give 
a general account of the performance as described by an eye- 
witness. " 

" OnTuesday," writes Chamberlain, February 18, 1612-13, " it 
cameto Gray's Inn and the Inner Temple's turn to come with their 
masque, whereof Sir Francis Bacon was the chief contriver; and 
because the former came on horseback and in open chariots, 
they made choice to come by water from Winchester Place, in 
Southwark; which suited well with their device, which was the 
marriage of the River Thames to the Rhine; and their show by 
water was very gallant, by reason of infinite store of lights, very 
curiously set and placed, and many boats and barges with devices 

1 Why tlie ■nritcr should sa_y this we know not, for two pages farther on he 
says: " For what Bacon had to say about such things, see his essay of Masques and 
Triumphs, which was very likely suggested by the consideration he had to bestow 
on this." This essay was never puWished until one year before Bacon's death, 
i. e., 1025. It shows us that Bacou's love of the stage and of nias(^uing was as 
keen in his old age as in his youth. In the posthumous edition ol the Essays, 
published iii 1638, the essay is sitppressed. 



142 FBANCIS BACON 

of lights unci lamps, with three peals of ordnance, one at their 
taking water, another in the Temple Garden, and the last at 
their landing; which passage by water cost them better than 
£300. They were received at the privy stairs, and great expecta- 
tion there was that they should every way excel their competi- 
tors that went before them, both in device, daintiness of apparel, 
and above all in dancing, wherein they are held excellent, and 
esteemed for the properer men. 

" But by what ill planet it fell out I know not, they came home 
as they went, without doing anything; the reason whereof I 
cannot yet learn thoroughly, but only that the hall was so full 
that it was not possible to avoid i it, or make room for them; 
besides that, most of the ladies were in the galleries to see them 
land, and could not get in. But the worst of all was that the 
King was so wearied and sleepy with sitting almost two whole 
nights before, that he had no edge to it. Whereupon Sir Fran- 
cis Bacon adventured to entreat of his Majesty that by this dif- 
ference he would not, as it were, bury them quick ;2 and I hear 
the King should answer that then they must bury Mm quick, for 
he could last no longer; but withal gave them very good words, 
and appointed them to come again on Saturday. 

"But the grace of their masque is quite gone, when their 
apparel hath been already showed, and their devices vented, so 
that how it will fall out, God knows, for they are much dis- 
couraged and out of countenance, and the world says, it comes 
to pass after the old proverb, the properer man, the worse 
luck. "3 

Their devices, however, went much beyond the mere exhibi- 
tion of themselves and their apparel, and there was novelty 
enough behind the curtain to make a sufficient entertainment 
by itself, without the water business for overture. Chamberlain 
writes again on the 25th: 

" Our Gray's Inn men and the Inner Templars were nothing 
discouraged for all the first dodge, but on Saturday last per- 
formed their part exceeding well, and with great applause and 
approbation, both from the King and all the company. The 

1 " Clear it." 2 " J live." 3 Court and Times of James I. i. 227. 



AND BIS SECBET SOCIETY. 143 

next night the King invited the masquers, with their assistants, 
to the numher of forty, to a solemn supper in the new marriage- 
room, where they were well treated, and much graced with kiss- 
ing his majesty's hand, and everyone having a particular accog- 
lienza with him. " i 

None of Bacon's biographers or critics have expressed the 
smallest surprise that, in days when Shakspere and Ben Jonson 
were at the height of their fame, it was neither the one nor the 
other of them, hut the Solicitor- General, who was employed to 
** contrive, " and ultimately to manage, the first masque which 
had been " presented" to the King. Under similar circum- 
stances we should expect that Mr. BeerbohmTree or Mr. Irving 
would be invited to undertake such a management; it would not 
have occurred to us to apply for help to Sir Edward Clarke, 
Q. C, M. P. 

In 1G13 Francis Bacon was appointed Attorney- General. This 
happened just before the marriage of the Earl of Somerset with 
Lady Essex, on December 26th. There were very unpleasant 
circumstances connected with this marriage, which are now 
known to historians, but which it is unnecessary here to enter 
upon. As Spedding says, it is but fair to the world of rank, 
wealth, fashion, and business, which hastened to congratulate 
the bride and bridegroom with gifts unprecedented in number 
and value, to remember that it does not follow that they would 
have done the same if they had known what we know. 2 It was 
proposed that during the week of festivities which celebrated this 
marriage the four Inns of Court (the Middle and Inner Temple, 
Gray's Inn and Lincoln's Inn) should join in getting up a masque, 
but they could not manage it, and once more we find Bacon 
called upon to supply their dramatic deficiencies. 

It appears that Bacon considered that he owed Somerset some 
complimentary offering, because Somerset claimed (though Bacon 
doubted it) to have used his influence with the King to secure 
Bacon's promotion. The approaching marriage gave the latter 
an opportunity for discharging an obligation to a man for whom 

1 lb. 229. 

2 Letters and Life, iv. 392. The following passages are nearly all extracte(? 
from this volume of Spedding. 



144 FBANCIS BACON 

ho had no esteem, whom, iudeed, he dishked too much to be 
wilhng to owe even a seeming and pretended obligation. 

The offering was well chosen for this purpose, although, as 
Spedding allows, it was " so costly (considering how little he 
owed to Rochester, and how superficial their intercourse had 
"been), and at the same time so peculiar, that it requires expla- 
nation."! While all the world were making presents — one of 
plate, another of furniture, a third of horses, a fourth of gold — 
he chose a masque, for which an accident supplied him with an ex- 
cellent opportunity. "When the united efforts of the four inns of 
court failed to produce the required entertainment. Bacon of- 
fered, on the part of Gray's Inn, to supply the place of it by a 
masque of their own. 

The letter, in Bacon's own hand, which was at first supposed 
to be addressed to Burghley, but which, upon close examination, 
Spedding believed to be written to Somerset, acquires a new 
value and significance from the latter circumstance, giving fresh 
evidence both as to the tone of Bacon's intercourse with the 
favourite, and as to the style in which he did this kind of thing. 
" The fly-leaf being gone, the address is lost, and the docket 
does not supply it; there is no date." (Just as we should expect 
when the record has anything to connect Bacon with plays or 
masques.) '* The catalogue assumes that it is addressed to Lord 
Burghley," and this erroneous assumption adds one more little 
obstruction to the discovery or recognition of the letter, which 
is a single leaf, and contains only the following words : 

" It may xMase your good L.: 

" I am sorry the masque from the four Inns of Court faileth; 
wherein I conceive there is no other ground of that event but 
impossibdity. Nevertheless, because it falleth out that at this 
time Gray's Inn is well furnished of gallant young gentlemen, 
your L. may be pleased to know that, rather than this occasion 
shall pass without some demonstration of affection from the 
four Inns of Court, there are a dozen gentlemen that, out of 
the honour which they bear to your Lordship and my Lord 
Chamberlain (to whom at their last masque they were so 
bounden), will be ready to furnish a masque; wishing it were in 

1 Let. aud Life, iv. 392. 



ANJD Mis SECRET SOCIETY. 145 

their powers to perform it according to their minds. And so for 
the present I humbly take my leave, resting 

" Your L.'s very humbly 

'' and much bounden 

"Fr. Bacon." 

The Lord Chamberlain was the Earl of Suffolk, who was the 
bride's father; so that everything seems to fit. But though 
Bacon speaks of it as a compliment from Gray's Inn, Gray's 
Inn was in reality to furnish only the performers and the com- 
posers. The care and the charges were to be undertaken by 
himself, as we learn from a news letter of Chamberlain's, whose 
information is almost always to be relied upon. Writing on the 
23d of December, 1613, he says: 

" Sir Francis Bacon prepares a masque to honour this mar- 
riage, which will stand him in above £2,000; and though he have 
been offered some help by the House, and especially by Mr. 
Solicitor, Sir Henry Yelverton, who would have sent him £500, 
yet be would not accept it, but offers them the whole charge 
with the honour. Marry! his obligations are such, as well to 
his Majesty as to the great Lord, and to the whole house of 
Howards, as he can admit no partner." 

The nature of the obligation considered, there was judgment 
as well as magnificence in the choice of the retribution. The 
obligation (whether real or not) being for assistance in obtain- 
ing an office, to repay it by any present which could be turned 
into money would have been objectionable, as tending to coun- 
tenance the great abuse of the times (from which Bacon stands 
clear) — the sale of offices for money. There was no such objec- 
tion to a masque. As a compliment, it was splendid, according 
to the taste and magnificence of the time; costly to the giver, 
not negotiable to the receiver; valuable as a compliment, but as 
nothing else. Nor was its value in that kind limited to the par- 
ties in whose honour it was given. It conferred great distinc- 
tion upon Gray's Inn, in a field in which Gray's Inn was ambi- 
tious and accustomed to shine. 

The piece performed was published shortly after, with a dedi- 
cation to Bacon, as " the principal, and in effect the only per- 
son that doth encourage and warrant the gentlemen to shew 
their good affection in a time of such magnificence; wherein" 

10 



146 FRANCIS BACON 

(they add) " we conceive, without giving you false atributes, 
which httle need where so many are true, that you have graced 
in general the societies of the Inns of Court, in continuing them 
still as third persons with the nobility and court, In doing the 
King honour; and particularly Gray's Inn, which, as you have 
formerly brought to flourish, both in the ancienter and younger sort, 
by countenancing virtue in every quality, so now you have made 
a notable demonstration thereof in the lighter and less serious 
kind, by this, that one Inn of Court by itself, in time of a vaca- 
tion, and in the space of three weeks, could perform that which 
hath been performed; which could not have been done but that 
every man's exceeding love and respect to you gave him wings to 
overtake time, which is the swiftest of things. " 

The words which we print in italics seem to show that the 
true object of this celebrated masque was to do the King honour; 
and, probably, we shall one day find that it was at some ex- 
pressed desire or regret of his that Francis Bacon was moved to 
undertake this work, which had proved (as he said in his letters 
to Eochester) an " impossibility" when attempted by the whole 
of the four Inns of Court in conjunction. 

Observe, too, the unexplained debt which Gray's Inn is said 
to owe to Bacon for its flourishing condition, and the exceeding 
love which the members bore to him, and which alone enabled 
them to carry out his elaborate devices in the short space of 
three weeks. We would like to ascertain who were J. G., W. D. 
and T. B., who signed the dedication. Spedding says that, 
from an allusion to their " graver studies," they appear to have 
been members of the society. The allusion, coupled with the 
description of the masque as a show or " demonstration, in the 
lighter and less serious kind,^' made to please the King, again 
carries our minds to the OTpen'mg-wordsof the Essay of Masques: 
" These things are but toys to come amongst such serious mat- 
ters; but since princes tvill have them," etc., they should be 
properly done. 

This piece, entitled TJie Masque of Flotvers, may be seen 
at full length in Nichol's Progresses: " A very splendid trifle, 
and answering very well to the description in Bacon's Essays of 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 147 

what a masque should be, — with its loud and cheerful music, 
abundance of light and colour, graceful motions and forms, and 
such things as do naturally take the sense, but haviug no 
personal reference to the occasion beyond being an entertain- 
ment given in honour of a marriage, and ending with an offering 
of Howers to the bride and bridegroom. " i 

In March, 1617, Bacon was installed as Lord Chancellor upon 
the death of Egertou. On May 7th he rode from Gray's Inn to 
Westminster Hall to open the courts in state. " All Loudon 
turned out to do him honour, and every one who could borrow a 
horse and a foot-cloth fell into the train; so that more than two 
hundred horsemen rode behind him. Through crowds of citizens 
. . . of players from Bankside, of the FuvitanhesiTevs of Bnvgess, 
of the Roman Catholic friends of Danvers and Armstrong, he 
rode, as popular in the streets as he had been in the House of 
Commons, down Chancery Lane and the Strand, past Charing 
Cross, through the open courts of Whitehall, and by King Street 
into Palace yard. " 2 

The Bankside players, then, came in a bevy, sufiSciently numer- 
ous to be conspicuous and registered in history, and all the way 
from Southwark, in order to do honour to the newly made Chan- 
cellor. " My friends, chew upon this." 

The Essay of Masques and Triumphs would suffice to show any 
unbiased reader that the author was intimately acquainted with 
the practical management of a theatre. There is something 
particularly graphic in this little essay, which we commend to 
the consideration of those who interest themselves in private 
theatricals. It should be remembered that Bacon would not 
insert amongst his most pohshed and well filed essays two 
pages of small particulars tvith zvhich every one was acquainted. 
He is clearly instructing those who do not know so much of the 
matter as he does. 

True, he takes a high ground, and prefaces his remarks with 
the reflection that " these things are but toys to come amongst 
such serious considerations; but yet, since princes will have such 

1 Spedding, Letters and Life, iv. 394-5, 2 Story of Bacon's Life, 317. 



148 FRANCIS BACON 

things, it is better they should be graced with elegancy than 
daubed with cost, " and he tells us how to ensure this, giving 
many suggestions which have been adopted until this day. 
" Acting in song hath an extreme good grace; I say acting, not 
dancing, for that is a mean and vulgar thing." The things he 
•sets down are such as " take the sense, not petty wonderments," 
though he considers that change of scene, so it be quietly and 
without noise, is a thing of beauty. The scenes are to abound 
with light, but varied and coloured — the masquers when appear- 
ing on the scene from above are to " make motions " which will 
draw the eye strangely and excite desire to see that which it 
cannot perfectly discern. The songs are to be loud and cheer- 
ful, " not chirpings and puling s,''' and the music sharp and well- 
placed. The colours that show best by candle-light are " white, 
carnation, and a kind of seawater-green." Short and pithy as 
this essay is, we wonder that it had never struck Shakspereans 
how wonderfully well Mrs. Page, in her little device to frighten 
and confuse FalstalT, carried out the instructions here conv^eyed. 
The music placed in the saw-pit; the many rounds of waxen 
tapers on the heads of the fairies; the rush out of the saw-pit 
with songs and rattles "to take the sense." The fairies in 
green and white, singing a scornful rhyme as they trip and pinch 
Falstaflf. Although the masque is intended to frighten him, 
there is in it nothing frightful, for " anything that is hideous, 
as devils and giants, is unfit." Satires, antics, sprites and pig- 
mies Bacon allows; so Mrs. Page introduces '' my little son and 
those of the same growth," dressed " like urchins, ouphes and 
fairies. " 

Even the " diffused " song which they sing seems to be 
arranged with care and intention, for, says Bacon, " I under- 
stand it, that the song be in quire, with some broken music." 
But he concludes, " Enough of these toys," and perhaps when 
the Bankside players came to see him ride in state as Chancel- 
lor, there may have been some amongst them who knew that 
indeed he would no more be able to indulge in meddling with 
such toys as these. 
Public and political business now increased with Bacon so that, 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY, 149 

without even taking other enterprises into consideration, no one 
will find it strange that from this time no more is heard of his 
performing the part of stage-manager or master of the revels on 
any occasion later than that of the marriage of the King's 
favourite. Probably, however, want of time had very little to 
do with the matter, for Bacon seems always to have found time 
for doing all that it was desirable should be done. It is more 
likely that he felt the incongruity which wo aid appear between 
the trivialities of such " toys " and the dignity of his position 
as Attorney- General and prospective Chancellor. Nevertheless, 
even in the published records of his later years hints drop out 
here and there as to his continued devotion to theatrical per- 
formances, and his unfading interest in playwrights and all con- 
cerning them. He knew that the stage was a great engine for 
good, and for teaching and moving the masses, who would never 
read books or hear lectures. 

In January, 1617, Bacon " dined at Gray's Inn to give counte- 
nance to their Lord and Prince of Purpoole, and to see their 
revels." i At this time, according to a letter from Buckingham 
to the King, a masque was performed; but we know not what it 
was. A masque appears also to have been in preparation for 
Shrove Tuesday, though it could not be performed till Tuesday, 
owing to the occupation of the banqueting hall by an improved 
edition of the" Prince's Masque " — a piece of Ben Jonson's, which 
had been acted on Twelfth Night with little applause. " The 
poet, " says Nathaniel Brent, " is grown dull, that his device is not 
thought worth the relating, much less the copying out. Divers 
think fit he should return to his old trade of bricklaying again. " 2 
Nevertheless, " their fashion and device were well approved " on 
the second occasion, when the " dull " device must have under- 
gone a good deal of alteration, since Chamberlain adds, " I can- 
not call it a masque, seeing they were not disguised nor had 
vizards." 

" Ben Jonson had seen something of Bacon off the stage, 
though we do not know how much, " says Speddiug, writing of 
the last years of Bacon's life. Tradition is persistent in repeat- 

1 Chamberlain to Carleton. 2 To Caileton, February 7, 1617-18. 



150 FBANCIS BACON 

ing that Ben Jouson was one of Bacon's " able pens, "an assist- 
ant in his writings, superior to an ordinary amanuensis. Drum- 
mond of Hawthornden records that Ben Jonson mentioned having 
written an "■ apology" for the play of Bartholomew Fair, " in 
my Lord St. Aubanie's house, " in 1604. 

Jonson " bursts into song, " says one biographer, when poli- 
tics or events favour Bacon's view, and in 1620 he " celebrates 
Ms birthday, " says another, " in words breathing nothing but 
reverence and honour. Since these lines, often alluded to, are 
httle known, it may be worth while to quote them here: 

" Hail, happy genius of this ancient pile ! 
How comes it all things so about thee smilo ? 
The fire, the wine, the men ! and in the midst 
Thou stand'st as if a mysterj^ thou didst ! 

Pardon, I read it in thy face, the day 

For whose returns, and many, all these pray ; 

And so do I. This is the sixtieth year , 

Since Bacon and thy lord was born, and here ; 

Son to the grave, wise keeper of the seal, 

Fame and foundation of the English weal. 

What then his father was, that since is he, 

Now with a little more to the degree ; 

England's High Chancellor, the destin'd heir 

In his soft cradle to his father's chair : 

Whoso oven threads the Fates spun round and full 

Out of their choicest and their whitest wool. 

'Tis a brave cause of joy, let it be known, 

For 'twere a narrow gladness, kept thine own. 

Give me a deep-bowl'd crown, that I may sing, 

In raising him, the wisdom of my King." 

However much or little Bacon may have known of Ben Jonson 
'' off the stage, " it is certain that Ben Jonson formed a very 
accurate estimate of Bacon's abilities as a writer and a poet. It 
is impossible so to wrest the ordinary and accepted meaning of 
words as to iusist that Ben Jonson did not mean what he so 
plainly says (and in connection with the poetic writings of 
Greece and Rome, as in the eulogy of Sliakespeare), namely, 
that he ^^ filled up all numbers," or wrote poetry in all styles 
and metres. Enumerating the learned and eloquent men of the 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY.' 151 

early days of Elizabeth, when " Sir Nicholas Bacon was singu- 
lar and almost alone, he mentions Sir Philip Sydney, Master 
Richard Hooker, Robert, Earl of Essex, Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir 
Henry Savile, Sir Edwin Sandys, and Sir Thomas Egerton, " a 
grave and great orator, and best when he was provoked. But 
his learned and able, though unfortunate successor, is he who 
hath filled up all numbers, and performed that in our tongue 
tvhich may be compared or preferred to insolent Greece and 
haitghty Bome." 

It will be observed that Shakespeare and the whole of the 
EUzabethan poets and dramatists, excepting Sir Philip Sydney, 
are here omitted, and that Jonson considers that with Bacon's 
death the main prop of learning, wit, eloquence, and poetry had 
been taken away. 

" In short, within his view, and about his time, were all the 
wits born that could honour a language or help study. Now 
things daily fall, wits go backward; so that he may be named 
and stand as the mark or dxjuTJ of our language. " 

Jonson is not here speaking of Bacon's scientific works. He 
comes to them in a subsequent paragraph, wherein he again 
shows his intimate knowledge of Bacon's powers, aims, and char- 
acter. '' The Novitm Organum," he says, is a book " which, 
though by the most superficial of men, who cannot get beyond 
the title of nominals, it is not penetrated nor understood, it 
really openeth all defects of learning whatsoever, and is a book, 
Qui longem noto scriptori proroget oevum."! 

In connection with Bacon's acquaintance with actors and 
his interest in the theatre, we must add a few words about one 
distinguished member of the profession. Edward Allen, or 
Alleyn, was the founder of Dulwich College, a munificent en- 
dowment which has been the subject of much wonder and of 
a considerable amount of unrewarded inquiry. How Alleyn 
became possessed of the means to enter upon and carry through 
so large and costly an enterprise has not yet been satisfactorily 
explained to the public at large, but the facts are clear that in 



1 Horat. de Art. Poetica. 



1 52 FEANCIS BA CON 

1606 he began to acquire land at Dulwich, and the most 
important of the valuable estates which now collectively form 
the endowment of the college; that in 1613 he contracted with 
a certain John Benson for the erection of a school-house and 
twelve alms-houses, and that in the course of the years of 1616 
and 1617 the first members of his foundation were admitted to 
the college. Alleynnow endeavoured to obtain from the King a 
patent for the permanent establishment of his college by its 
endowment by the King of lands to the value of £800. Ba- 
con opposed this, not because he objected to the charity, in 
which he was interested, but because he considered that the 
crown property would suffer if the King once began the system 
of " amortizing his tenures " for charitable purposes. More- 
over, alms-houses, he thought, were not unmixed blessings, 
whereas endowments for educational purposes were much 
needed. The King had lately rejected the applications of Sir 
Henry Savile and Sir Edward Sandys for grants of money for 
such purposes; why, then, should he give such a large sum to 
Alleyn 'I 

Bacon's good judgment in preferring educational institutions 
to alms-houses has been vindicated by the action of the Charity 
Commission. By an act of Parliamentpassed in 1857 the almsmen 
of the " hospital " were all pensioned off, and the foundation 
completely reconstructed, simply as a collegiate institution, 
with upper and lower schools. 

Since, even in this matter, it has been attempted to put Bacon 
in the wrong, by representing that " the impediments which 
Alleyn experienced proceeded from the Lord Chancellor," and 
by the implication that these impediments were needlessly vex- 
atious. Here is the letter which Bacon wrote on this occasion 
to the Marquis of Buckingham. It has been truly described as 
characteristic in point and quaintness : 

" My Vert Good Lord : 

" I thank your lordship for your last loving letter. I now write 
to give the King an account of a patent I have stayed at the 
seal. It is of licence to give in mortmain eight hundred pound 
land, though it be of tenure in chief, to Allen, that was the 
player, for an hospital. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 153 

" I like well thfit Allen playeth the last act of his life so well; 
but if his Majesty give way thus to amortize his tenures, his 
courts of wards shall decay, which I had well hoped should 
improve. 

" But that which moveth me chiefly is, that his Majesty did 
now lately absolutely deuy Sir Henry Savile for £200, and Sir 
Edwin Sandys for £100 to the perpetuating of two lectures, the 
one in Oxford, the other in Cambridge, foundations of singular 
honour to his Majesty (the best of learned kings), and of which 
there is a great want ; whereas hospitals abound, and beggars 
abound never a whit the less. 

" If his Majesty do like to pass the book at all ; yet if he would 
be pleased to abridge the £800 to £500, and then give way to 
the other two books for the university, it were a princely work. 
And I make an humble suit to the King, and desire your lordship 
to join in it, that it mought be so. God ever preserve and pros- 
per you. 

" Your lordship's most obliged friend 

" and faithful servant, 

" Fr. Verulam, Cane. 

" York House, this 18th of August, 1G16. -*' 

Whether or no the money for the lectures at the university 
was granted by the King, deponents say not, but on June 21st, 
1619, Bacon affixed the great seal of England to letters patent 
from James I. giving license to Edward Alleyn " to found and 
establish a college in Dulwich, to endure and remain forever, 
and to be called The College of GocVs Gift in Dulwich, in the 
County of Surrey." 

On September 13th of the same year the college was com- 
pleted, " and so, in the quaint words of Fuller " i — words which 
strangely echo those in Bacon's letter to the Duke of Bucking- 
ham — " he who out- acted others in Ms life, outdid himself before 
his death. " 

Amongst the distinguished guests at the opening of the col- 
lege Bacon and his friends are conspicuous. Alleyn gives a list 
of them, beginning with " The Lord Chancellor (Bacon), the 
Lord of Arondell, Lord Ciecill (Cecil), Sir John Howland, High 
Shreve, and Inigo Jones, the King's Surveyor. " 

Perhaps the latest, as it is the greatest tribute openly paid by 

1 Old and New London, vi. 298. 



154 FRANCIS BACON 

Bacon to the value of the theatre as a means of popular educa- 
tion, Is the passage which he omitted from the Advancement 
of Learning in its early form, but inserted in the De Augmentis 
in 1623, when that work, the crowning work of his scientific and 
philosophical labours, appeared simultaneously with the first 
collected edition of the Sliakespeare plays. The passage was 
not intended to be read by the " profane vulgar," who might 
have scorned the Chancellor for praising the much-despised stage. 
It was, therefore, reserved for the Latin, and thus rendered, for 
the time, accessible only to the learned — for the most part 
Bacon's friends: 

" Dramatic poesy, which has tbe theatre for its world, would 
be of excellent use if well directed. For the stage is capable 
of no small intluence, both of discipline and of corruption. Now, 
of corruptions in this kind we have enough; but the discipline 
has, in our times, been plainly neglected. And though in 
modern states play-acting is esteemed but as a toy, except when 
it is too satirical and biting, yet among the ancients it was used 
as a means of educating men's minds to virtue. Nay, it has 
been regarded by learned men and great philosophers as a kind 
of musician's bow, by which men's minds may be played upon. 
And certainly it is most true, and oue of the greatest secrets of 
nature, that the minds of men are more open to impressions 
and affections when many are gathered together, than when 
they are alone." i 

The brief records which are published of Bacon's last days 
show him, still in sickness and poverty, possessing the same 
sweet, gentle, i^atient, and generous spirit which had been with 
him in the brilliant and exciting days of prosperity; even in his 
misfortune and ruin making himself happy with his books and 
his experiments, trying to leave his work in such a condition 
that others could readily take up and complete that which life 
was too short and fortune too adverse for him to accomplish 
before his death. 

His will is brief, but touching in its thought for everybody con- 
nected with him, and for the sanguine spirit which it displays. 2 
" My name and memory I leave to men's charitable speeches, 

1 De Aug. ii. 13. 

2 The following is from Hepworth Dixon's Story, p. 479. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 155 

and to foreign nations, and to tlie next ages. " He desired to be 
laid near the motlier be so dearly loved and so closely resembled, 
in St Micbael's Church, near Gorhambury. Su- John Constable, 
his brother-in-law, was to have the chief care of his boolis.i 
Bequests were made to the poor of all the parishes in which he 
had chiefly resided. An ample income, beyond the terms of her 
marriage settlement, was secured to bis wife; though, for rea- 
sons only darkly hinted in his will, a subsequent clause or 
codicil revoked these bequests, and left the Viscountess to her 
legal rights. Legacies were left to his friends and servants; 
to the Marquis d'Effiat "my book of orisons, curiously 
rhymed;" to the Earl of Dorset "my riug with the crushed 
diamond, which the King gave me when Prince;" to Lord Cav- 
endish " my casting bottle of gold. " 

Where are these relics? Surely the recipients must have 
valued such gifts, and handed them down to their posterity as 
curiosities, if not as precious treasures. The hook of orisons, 
especially, we should expect to find carefully preserved. Can 
no one produce this most interesting prayer-book? 

The lease of Bacon's rooms in Gray's Inn, valued at three 
hundred pounds, was to be sold, and the money given to poor 
scholars. The residue of his estate, he believed, would be suf- 
ficient to found two lectureships on natural history and the 
physical sciences at the universities. " It was a beautiful, 
beneficent dream," but not to be realized, for the property and 
personalty left by Bacon hardly sufficed to pay his debts; yet in 
the last clause, which has just been quoted, we see a repetition 
of the earnest expression of his opinion as to the " great want" 
of foundations for the perpetuating of lectures, which he men- 
tioned in his letter to Buckingham. As usual, he endeavours, 
poor as ho now is, to supply the necessary funds, which the 
King had " denied." Probably, had the grant been denied to 
Alleyn, Bacon intended himself to raise the money for the com- 
pletion of Dulwich College and its alms-houses. 

The winter of 1625-6 was the most dismal he had known; 

1 Another copy of his will consigns the charge of his "cabinet and presses 
fall of papers" to three trustees, Constable, Selden, and Herbert. 



156 FRANCIS BACON 

the cold intense, the city blighted with plague, the war abroad 
disastrous. Bacon remained at Gorhambury, " hard at work 
on his Sf/lva Sylvarum.''^ But that work is merely a newly- 
arranged collection of old notes, and its construction would not 
have been nearly sufficient occupation for such a mind. It 
seems probable that Bacon was now engaged in putting together, 
arranging, or polishing the works which lie was about to leave 
behind, to be brought out in due season by the faithful friends 
to whom he entrusted them, and to whom he must, at this 
time, have given instructions as to their future disposition and 
publication. 

A Parliament was called at Westminster, for February, to 
which he received the usual summons, for he had been restored 
to his legal rights, and reinstated amongst his peers. But he 
was too ill to obey the writ. He rode once to Gray's Inn, but it 
was in April, and the severity of the winter had not yet passed. 
He caught the cold of which he died. Taking the air one day 
with his physician, Dr. Witherbourne, towards Highgate, the 
snow lying deep, it occurred to Bacon to inquire if flesh might 
not be preserved in snow i as well as in salt. Pulling up at a 
small cottage near the foot of Highgate Hill, he bought a hen 
from an old woman, plucked and drew it; gathered up snow in 
his hands, and stuffed it into the fowl. Smitten with a sudden 
chill, but doubting the nature of his attack, Bacon drove to the 
house of his friend Lord Arundel, close by, where Witherbourne 
had him put into the bed from whence he rose no more. 

It is hardly possible to keep patient on reading that the sheets 
between which the invalid was laid " were damp, as no one 
had slept in them for a year, " and, although the servants warmed 
the bed with a pan of coals, the damp inflamed his cold. 

From the first a gentle fever set in ; he lingered just a weekj 
and then, on the 9th of April, 1626, expired of congestion of 
the lungs.2 

1 This idea was the original thought which has since given rise to the various 
systems of preserving and transporting frozen meat from distant countries. 

2 H. Dixon, from Court and Times of Charles, i. 74 ; LonVs Journal, iii. 492; 
Aubrey, ii. 227. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 157 

He was buried, as directed, near his inotlier, in tlie parish 
church of St. Michael, near St. Albans. This picturesque and 
lonely little church became a place of pilgrimage, and will, we 
believe, become so once more. The obligations of the world 
are, as his biographer says, of a kind not to be overlooked. 
There is no department in literature or science or philanthropy, 
no organization for the promulgation of religious knowledge, 
which does not owe something to Francis Bacon. 

To him the patriot, the statesman, the law reformer, the 
scientific jurist, the historian, are also indebted, and, apart from 
all debatable works, the collector of anecdote, the lover of 
good wit, of humourous wisdom, and of noble writing, must all 
find that he has laid them under obligations far greater than' 
they may be aware of. It is hard, indeed, to say who amongst 
us is not the easier in circumstances, the brighter in intellect, 
the purer in morals, the worthier in conduct, through the teach- 
ings and the labours of Francis Bacon. The principles of his 
philosophy are of universal application, and they will endure as 
long as the world itself. 

To this conclusion must those come who contemplate his life 
and works from the standpoint which we have been occupying. 
But not all will care to take the same view. Let us, therefore, 
shift our position and take a more particular observation of 
some circumstances connected with Bacon which seem to be 
mysterious, or at least not thoroughly explained. 



CHAPTER VI. 

DEFICIENCIES OF LEAEISTING IN THE TIMES OF ELIZABETH 
AND JAMES I. ' 

"Defect is a reptile that basely crawls upon the earth." — Bacon. 

"What a piece of work is man! how noble in reason! how infinite in fac- 
ulty ! . . . Tet man delights not me. . . What should such fellows as I do, 
crawling between heaven and earth ? " — Hamlet. 

BEFORE trying to follow Bacon in his inquiries as to the 
deficiencies of learning, let us reflect upon the herculean 
nature of the work which he was proposing to himself. He 
might satirise his own vast speculations; he may even have been 
perfectly w.ell aware that his enthusiastic visions could never be 
realised, but a universal reformation was his aim, and who will 
say that he failed to achieve it? 

Those " good old times " in which Bacon lived were anything 
but good ; they were coarse, ignorant, violent, " dark and 
dangerous." • The church, Bacon said, " which should be the 
chief band of religion, was turned to superstition, or made the 
matter of quarrelling and execrable actions; of murdering 
princes, butchery of people, and subversion of states and govern- 
ments. The land full of oppression, taxation, privileges broken, 
factions desperate, poverty great, knowledge at a standstill; 
learning barren, discredited by the errors, contentions, conceit, 
and fantastical pedantry of so-called learned men. The literary 
spirit of the ancients dead. At the uuiv^ersities and schools 
words were taught, but not matter. He even questions whether 
it would not be well to abolish the scholastic system altogether, 
and to set up a new form of teaching. The list of sciences 
taught, and which he finds to be full of follies and errors, or 
totally deficient, forbids any wonder at his verdict, that, whereas 
present methods were rotten and useless to advance learning, 

(158) 



AND HIS SECHET society. 159 

the old fabric should be rased to the ground, aud a new Solomon's 
House erected. 

But is it not a little surprising that, even if Bacon could thus 
speak in his early days of the ignorance, the folly, the futility 
of the learning of his time, the dullness, apathy, or ignorant 
bigotry of his contemporaries, the degradation of the stage, the 
decay of the wisdom of the ancients, the barrenness of the modern 
muse, yet that we should find him reiterating, with even more 
forcible expressions, these same opinions at the very end of his 
life °? In his crowning worli, the De A iigmentis, published in 1623, 
he is as earnest in his strictures on the prevailing learning (or 
the want of it) as he was in the days of his youth. Was he a 
detractor, or a boastful, self-satisfied man, who could see no good 
in any works but his own? Or was he a rash and inconsiderate 
speaker, uttering words which do not bear the test of time, or 
which were confuted and rejected by his contemporaries? We 
turn to the short hfe of Bacon by his secretary, Dr. Rawley, a 
man who does not waste words, and whose statements have 
become classical as they are unassailably accurate: 

" He was no dashing i man, as some men are, but ever a 
countenancer and fosterer of another man's parts. Neither was 
he one that loould appropriate the speech tvholli/ to himself, or 
delight to outvie others. He contemned no man's observations, 
but would light his torch at every man's candle. His opinions 
tvere for the most part binding, and not contradicted by any, 
which may tvell be imputed either to the loell-tveighing of his sen- 
tences by the scales of truth and reason, or else to the reverence 
and estimation in which he ivas held. I have often observed, 
and so have other men of great account, that if he had occasion 
to repeat another man's words after him, he had an use and 
faculty to dress them in better vestments and apparel than they 
had before, so that the author shoidd find his own speech much 
amended, and yet the substance of it still retained, as if it had 
been natural to him to use good forms, as Ovid spake of his 
faculty of versifying. • 

1 Rawley means, not a man who used his wit to put others out of coun- 
tenance. See Costard in Love's Labour's Lost, v. 2 : "An honest man, look you, 
and soon dashed." Spedding, Works, ii. 12. 



160 PUANCIS BACON 

'■ Et quod tentaham sa'ihere, versus erat.' "l 

Bacon's most malicious enemies have not attempted to con- 
tradict or disprove these statements of one of his most intimate 
friends and faithful " servants. " Why, then, does Bacon entirely 
ignore the unparalleled outburst of learning, the prodigious strides 
made in every department of science, the spirit of inquiry and 
of longing after truth, the galaxy of wits and poets, the " giant 
minds " with whom, so we are told, the age was teeming? We 
might read Bacon's acknowledged works from cover to cover 
without suspecting that such persons as Hooker or Ben Jonson, 
Burton, Spenser, or Shakspere, ever existed. Comprehensive 
as are liis works, summing up the deficiencies of knowledge in 
all its departments, we find no allusion to that marvellous 
phenomenon ^patent apparently to all eyes but those of Bacon 
himself^ of the sudden and simultaneous revival of learning 
which began to take place immediately after he left Cambridge 
at the age of fifteen 

The great impediments of knowledge, and the points which, 
in Bacon's judgment, rendered his times so unfavourable for its 
advance, were, in the first place, the scattering or " diversion " 
of clever men, the want of " a collection of wits of several parts 
or nations," and of any system by which wits could contribute 
to help one another, and mutually to correct errors and " cus- 
tomary conceits." 

This deficiency was the cause of another impediment to knowl- 
edge, the lack, namely, of any means for keeping " a succession 
of wits of several times, whereby one might refine the other. " 
There was no system by which newly acquired knowledge could 
be handed down, for the manner of the traditions of learned 
men " was utterly unfit for the amplification of knowledge." 

The result of such impediments in and before Bacon's time 
was, he said, such as to lead men to conclude, either that knowl- 
edge is but a task for one man's life (and then vain was the 
complaint that life is short and art is long); or else that the 
knowledge that now Is, is but a shrub and not that tree which is 

1 " He lisped in numbera, for the numbera came," (Pojie's IJpistk to Dr. 
Arbuihnot.) 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 161 

never dangerous but where it is to the purpose of knowing good 
and evil in order that man may choose the evil. A desire which 
rises into a desire rather to follow one's own will than to obey, 
contains, he says, a manifest " defection " or imperfection. 

He is also of opinion that " the pretended succession of wits, " 
such as it is, has been ill-placed, and that too much absolute 
reliance was put upon the philosophy of one or two men to 
the exclusion of others. Also that the system of handling phi- 
losophy by parts, and not as a whole, was very injurious, and 
a great impediment to knowledge. He deprecates " the slip- 
ping-off particular sciences from the root and stock of univer- 
sal knowledge," quoting the opinion of Cicero, that eloquence is 
not merely " a shop of good words and elegancies,i but a treas- 
ury and receipt of all knowledges ; " and the example of Socrates, 
who, instead of teaching " an universal sapience and knowledge, 
both of words and matter, divorced them, and withdrew philos- 
ophy, leaving rhetoric to itself, which thereby became a barren 
and unuoble science." 

Bacon argues that a specialist in any branch of science, 
" whether he be an oculist in physic, or perfect in some one 
tittle of the law, may prove ready and subtile, but not deep or 
sufficient, even in the one special subject which is his province ; 
because it is a matter of common discourse of the chain of scien- 
ces, how they are linked together, ^^ inasmuch as the Grecians, 
who had terms at will, have fitted it of a name of circle learning. 

Although Bacon speaks of this chain of sciences as a matter 
of common discourse, it seems to have been so only in the circle 
of his own friends. To forge such links and to weld such a chain 
was, it would seem, one part of his method, and the conventional 
design which represents this linking together of universal knowl - 
edge, both earthly and heavenly, is to be seen on a vast number 
of the title-pages and ornamental designs of the books which 
emanated from Bacon's great society for the advancement of 
learning. As a rule these chains will be found in combination 
with a figure of Pan, or universal nature, with the head of Truth, 

1 Compare Bacon's own Promus of Formularies and Elegancies. 
11 



162 FRANCIS 13 A CON 

or universal philosophy or religion, and with the peculiar wooden 
scroll or frame- worlc which we interpret as figuring " the uni- 
versal frame of the world. " 

Since then the end and scope of knowledge had been so gen- 
erally mistaken that men were not even well-advised as to what 
it was that they sought, but wandered up and down in the way, 
making no advance, but setting themselves at last " in the right 
way to the wrong place," Bacon takes in hand the business of 
demonstrating " what is the true end, scope, or ofQce of knowl- 
edge, and to make, as it were, a calendar or inventory of the 
wealth, furniture, or means of man, according to his present 
estate, as far as it is known. " By this means, he adds, " I may, 
at the best, give some awaking note, both of the wants in man's 
present condition, and the nature of the supplies to be wished; 
though, for mine own part, neither do I much build upon my 
present anticipations, neither do I think ourselves jet learned or 
wise enough to wish reasonably ; for, as it asks some knowledge 
to demand a question not impertinent, so it asketh some sense 
to make a wish not absurd. " 

The Interpretation of Nature, from which these passages are 
taken, includes only a fragment of the " inventory, " which is to 
be found in the form of a separate " catalogue " of one hundred 
and thirty histories which are required for the equipment of 
philosophy. It is also in the I)e Augmentis, which is in truth an 
Exposition of the Deficiencies which Bacon noted in every con- 
ceived branch of science and literature, and of the practical 
means which he proposed to adopt for the supply of these tre- 
mendous gaps in the chain of universal knowledge. 

The " Catalogue of Histories " was published at the end of the 
Novum Organum in 1620, but it appears to have been written 
much earlier; for a few lines at the end show that at the time 
when he penned this list he was looking forward to the accom- 
plishment of all that is included in it. It seems improbable that 
he would, so late in life, have published this catalogue, had it 
been merely the airy fabric of a vision. On the other hand, 
there are works extant which were first published anonymously 
during his life-time, and which answer admirably to the titles of 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 163 

many of these "particular histories," whicli, we observe, are 
not necessarily to be original works,, but " collections " or " con- 
tributions to the equipment of philosophy." In other words, 
they were to be the furniture and household stuff of the new 
Solomon's House. 

It will be profltable to spend a few minutes in noting with 
Bacon some of the departments of knowledge which he found 
to be either totally uncultivated, or so weakly handled as to be 
unproductive. In so doing we must not overlook the fact that, 
in every case where he notes such deficiencies, he makes, as he 
says, some effort toward supplying them. 

Unless we take some pains to follow Bacon's meaning and 
Jine of argument, it is impossible to realize what is meant by 
his statement that truth was barren of fruits fit for the use of 
man. Modern teaching and traditions as to the marvellous 
revival of learning in the time of Elizabeth have blinded us to 
the fact that knowledge was at the very lowest ebb. The first 
attempt made by William Grocyn, in the end of the fifteenth 
century, to introduce the study of Greek into the University of 
Oxford, was regarded as an alarming innovation, and roused 
strong opposition. His distinguished pupil John Colet, after- 
wards Dean of St. Paul's, and founder of St. Paul's School, was 
exposed to the persecution of the clergy tlirough his promotion 
of a spirit of inquiry and freedom of thought and speech. We 
read that in Paris, about the same time,i " The Juris Consult, 
Conrad Heresbach, affirms that he heard a monk announce 
from the pulpit, 'A new language, called Greek, has been found, 
against which strict precautions are requisite, as it propagates 
all kinds of heresie. A number of persons have already pro- 
cured a work in that tongue called the New TesUiment — a book 
full of briars and vipers. As to Hebrew, all those who learn it 
turn Jews at once.' " 

These dense prejudices were about to be dissipated by the 
creation, by Francis I., of the Royal College. Its professors 
were to be nominated by the King, regardless of university 

1 Francis I. and His Times. C. Coignet. Translated by F. Twemlow Bent- 
ley. London, 1888. 



164 FBANGIS BACON 

degrees, and the college was to be the refuge of free-thinkers of 
all countries. Such an 'innovation was reprobated by the 
pedants of the old school, and a tempest of wrath and indigna- 
tion greeted the enterjmse. Beda, syndic of the theological 
faculty, who later on headed a religious persecution, was a 
leader in this contest, and in tljis curious struggle we trace the 
germ of the coutiict between Faith and Science, between Church 
and State, a conflict which Bacon spent his life in trying to 
appease and terminate. 

Beda pretended that religion would be lost if Greek and He- 
brew were taught by othei's than tlieologiaus. Were ]iot all 
Bibles brought from that heretical nest, Germany, or from the 
Jews! The royal professors replied : We are not theologians,, 
but grammarians and scholars. If you understand Greek and 
Hebrew, attend our classes and denounce our heresies ; but if 
you do not understand those languages, why interfere with us? 

Parliament was puzzled what to do. Theology and Hebrew 
were dead letters to it. King Francis was in fits of laughter at 
its evident embarrassment. Finally it decided to wash its hands 
of the affair, and to leave the disputants to settle it amongst 
themselves. Francis now completed the discomfiture of his 
adversaries by nominating as royal printer of Hebrew and 
Latin classics Hubert Estieune, the distinguished editor and 
typographer. Theologians detested Estienne, because his 
translations of. Holy Writ corrected their falsifications and mis- 
representations, and exposed their ignorance and insincerity. 
His first translation of tlie Hebrew Bible appeared in 1532. It 
was denounced as sacrilegious, and its author as meriting the 
stake. During the King's absence from Paris, Estienne's house 
was ransacked, and he was forced to fly. But on the King's re- 
turn Estienne was reinstated. Search was made throughout 
Europe and Asia for the old manuscripts, and these Estienne 
reproduced, the King superintending, with great interest, the 
beauty and perfection of type, destined, as these books were, to 
enrich his magnificent library at Fontainebleau. 

Amongst the distinguished men who, in these early days, were 
connected, with the Royal College of Francis I. are the names 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 165 

of men whose works were afterwards studied and quoted by 
Bacon and his own school, and whose successors seem to have 
become some of the most able and earnest workers on behalf of 
his far more liberal and far-reaching secret society. It is easy 
to see that Bacon, during his residence in the French court, 
must almost certainly have been drawn into the society of many 
members of this Royal College, whose duty it was to bring be- 
fore the notice of the King " all men of the greatest learning, 
whether French or foreigners. " 

But, in spite of this Royal College, learning had not made 
much advance, even in France. Although Bacon must have 
witnessed the working of the college when he was in Paris, yet 
he says nothing in its praise. The method was as faulty as ever, 
although speech, and consequently thought, had become freer. 
Bacon's chief complaint against the " schoolmen," and against 
the ancient xihilosophies, was not so much regarding their mat- 
ter as their method. The matter had become mere words, and 
the continual repetition of the same words made even " truth 
itself tired of iteration. " He rightly complained that the writers 
of his time only looked out for f.icts in support of preconceived 
theories, or else, where authority and prejudice did not lead the 
way, constructed their theories on a hasty and unmethodical 
examination of a few facts collected at random, i In either case 
they neglected to test or verify their generalizations, whilst they 
wasted time and study in drawing out, by logical arguments, 
long trains of elaborate conclusions, which, for aught they 
knew, might start from erroneous theories. 

The whole of Bacon's teaching, then, goes to enforce upon 
his disciples the necessity of examining and proving every state- 
ment, trusting to no " authority," however great, whose asser- 
tions or axioms cannot stand the test of microscopic inspection, 
or which are not seen to be " drawn from the very centre of 
the sciences." 

" How long," he asks, " shall we let a few received authors 
stand up like Hercules' Columns, beyond which there shall be no 

1 See an excellent and very clear exposition of this in '^Francis Bacon" by 
Prof. Fowlci-. 



166 FEANCIS IfACON 

sailing or discoverj' in science?" He proceeds to indicate the 
various parts of his method by which learning was to be col- 
lected, rectified,' and finally stored up in the " receptacles " 
which he would have provided in " places of learning, in books, 
and in the persons of the learned." In other words, he would 
provide schools, colleges, and libraries; he would facilitate 
printing, the publication of good books, and the institution of 
lectures, with paid professors of all arts and sciences. We look 
around, and are overwhelmed with admiration of all that has 
been accomplished upon Bacon's method. But he did not live 
to see it. Doubtless his life was one long series of disappoint- 
ments, lightened only by his joyous, hopeful spirit, and by the 
absolute conviction which possessed him that he had truth on 
his side, and that " Time, that great arbitrator, would decide " in 
his favour. 

" For myself," he says, " I may truly say that, both in this 
present work, and in those I intend to publish hereafter, I often 
advisedly and deliberately throiv aside the dignity of my name 
and wit (if such thing be) in my endeavour to advance human 
interests; and being one that should properly , perhaps, be an archi- 
tect in philosophy and the sciences, I turn common labourer, hod- 
man, anything that is wanted; taking upon myself tlie burden 
and execution of many things which must needs be done, 
and which others, through an inborn pride, shrink from and 
decline. " i 

Dr. liawley records Bacon's gentle regret that he that should 
be an architect in this erecting and building of the new phi- 
losophy " should be forced to be a workman and a labourer, to 
dig the clay and make the brick, and, like the Israelites, to 
gather the stubble and straw over all the fields, to burn the 
bricks withal. But he knoweth that, except he do it, nothing 
will be done : men are so set to despise the means of their own 
good. And as for the baseness of many of the experiments, as 
long as they be God's works, they are honourable enough ; true 
axioms must be drawn from plain experience, and not from 

1 De Aiig. vii. I. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 167 

doubtful, and his course is, to make wonders plain, and not 
plain things wonders. " 

So, in the thousand paragraphs of the Natural History, or 
S>/Iva Sylvarum, we find each paragraph recording, not mere 
speculations, or repetitions of theories or conclusions supposed 
to have been established by former philosophers, but reports of 
experiments (sometimes very strange and original) made always 
with a definite object, and generally accompanied by some 
remarks explaining the causes of the phenomena observed. 
Bacon is never ashamed to admit his own ignorance of causes, 
and nothing which tends to their recovery is, in his eyes, insig- 
nificant or unimportant. 

'' It is, " he says, " esteemed a kind of dishonour to learning, 
to descend into inquiries about common and famiUar things, 
except they be such as are considered secrets, or very rare. " 
Plato, he says, ridiculed this " supercihous arrogancy; " and " the 
truth is that the best information is not always derived from 
the greatest examples, but it often comes to pass that mean and 
small things discover great, better than great can discover the 
small, as that secret of nature, the turning of iron touched with 
the loadstone to the earth, was found out in needles, and not in 
bars of iron. " 

The collector of facts he compares to the ant heaping up its 
store for future use. He does not despise the ant, but com- 
mends its intelligence, as superior to that of the grasshopper, 
which, like the mere talker, keeps up a chirping noise, but does 
no work. The notes which he collects in such a store as the 
Sylva Sylvarum (although, as we firmly believe, ambiguous in 
meaning, and in their more important bearings symbolical or 
parabolic) give a good idea of the want of observation and gen- 
eral ignorance in Bacon's times on matters with which children 
in the poorest schools are now made familiar. Whatever double 
purpose this work on Natural History may have had, these sim- 
ple notes were offered to the public as interesting and instruct- 
ive information, and as such were received by the learned in the 
seventeenth century. 

For instance, we read that alkali or potash is used in making 



168 FRANCIS BACON 

glass; that airs may be wholesome or unwholesome; that some 
flowers are sweeter than others; that some, but not all, can be 
distilled into perfumes; that some have the scent in the leaf, as 
sweetbriar, i others in the flower, as violets and roses; that 
most odours smell best crushed or broken; that excess in nourish- 
ment is hurtful — if a child be extremely fat it seldom grows very 
tall; all mouldiness is a beginning of decay or putrefaction; heat 
dries and shrivels things, damp rots; some parts of vegetables and 
plants are more nourishing than others; yolks of eggs are more 
nourishing than the whites; soup made of bones and sinews 
would probably be very nourishing ; bubbles are in the form of a 
sphere, 2 air within and a little skin of water without. No beast has 
azure, carnation or green hair; 3 mustard provoketh sneeziug, and 
a sharp thing to the eyes, tears. Sleep nourishes — after-dinner 
sleep is good for old people. Boiling gives a bubbling sound; 
mincing meat makes it easier for old teeth; Indian maize when 
boiled is good to eat; flax and white of eggs are good for wounds. 

Now, although it is true that here is hardly one particular 
which is not turned to excellent account in the Shakespeare 
plays, and in many minor works of Bacon's time, it is impossible 
to ignore the fact that Bacon makes notes of these as things not 
generally known; that the book in which he registered them was 
not published until after his death, and then, as we are espe- 
cially told, with the notes revised, or not arranged in the order 
in which they were written. 

Amongst the commonplaces which we have enumerated, there 
are other statements incorrect as they are picturesque and 
poetical. Probably Bacon did not believe them himself; they 
are often introduced with some such modification as " It may 
be that, " or " It is said that. " Thus we are told that gums 
and rock crystals are the exudations of stones ; that air can be 
turned into water, water into oil ; that the celestial bodies are 

1 "The leaf of eglantine out-sweetened not thy breath." Cymb. ir. 2. 

2 See Emblems of a Bubble, in reference to the world. 

3 This is alluded to in Troilm and Cressida, i. 2, where Pandarus says that 
they are laughing at the white hair on Troilus' chin, and Cressida aaswers : " An't 
had been ^t/reen hair, I should have laughed too." 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY, 169 

most of them true fire or flames ; that flame and air do not min- 
gle except for an instant, or in the vital spirits of vegetables 
and living creatures. Everywhere the Paracelsiau and very 
poetical idea of the vital spirits of nature is perceptible, and the 
whole of these notions are resolved into poetry in ShaJiesj>eare 
and elsewhere. It is not too much to say that there is in 
the plays hardly an allusion to any subject connected with sci- 
ence or natural history which is not traceable to some note in 
these commonplace books, the apparently dry records of dis- 
jointed facts or experiments. 

Not only arts and arguments, but demonstrations and proofs 
according to analogies, he also '' notes as deficient." And here 
is a point in which his observations are distinctly in touch with 
the Rosicrucian doctrines, or, to put it more accurately, a point 
in which the Rosicrucians are seen to have followed Baconian 
doctrines. For they made it a rule to accept nothing as scien- 
tific truth which did not admit of such proof and demonstration 
by experiment or analogy. 

As an example of the deficiency in this quarter, Bacon gives 
the form and nature of light. i That no due investigation should 
have been made of light, he considers " an astonishing piece of 
negligence." Let inquiry be made of it, and, meanwhile, let it 
be set down as deficient. So of heat and cold, of flame, of dense 
things and rare, of the nature of sulphur, mercury, salt, and 
metals, the nature of air, of its conversion into water, and of 
water into oil; almost everything, in fact, which we now call 
natural science, he either marks among the deficients, or as 
being handled in a manner of which he " prefers to make no 
judgment." 

Since doubts are better than false conclusions, Bacon sets 
down a calendar of doubts or problems in nature as wanting, 
and probably few students of works of the class here indicated 
will find much difficulty in identifying the works written to 
supply these needs. 



1 Here, we think, is the customarj double allusion, light being, in his sym- 
bolic language, sjTionjTiiGUS with pure truth. 



1 70 FBA NCIS BA CON 

In short, Bacon shows that the sciences, whether of natural 
philosophy, physics, or chemistry, were in a parlous state, full 
of barren doctrines, empty theories, and bootless inquisitions; 
that if ever they were to be revived and made to bring forth 
fruits for the food of man, they must be " proyned " about the 
roots, nourished and watered, lopped of an infinite number of 
excrescences and useless branches, and grafted anew. 

So with all the allied sciences of husbandry, horticulture, 
distillation, fermentation, germination, putrefaction, etc., we 
have but to consider the " experiments, " proposed or explained, 
in the Sylva Syloariim (for the special use, as we believe, of 
Bacon's learned brotherhood or " Illuminati " ), to realise the 
fact that the world {even the learned tvorld) was indeed very 
ignorant, and that these scientific studies were part of the great 
" birth of time, ' ' the Renaissance, the seeds and weak begin- 
nings which time should bring to ripeness. Many of these 
observations are repeated in the Anatomy of Melancholy , which 
seems to be another "collection," this time the sweepings of 
Bacon's commonplace books on subjects medical and metaphys- 
ical; a detailed examination of the mutual relations between 
mind and body, which are brietiy treated of in the Advance- 
ment of Learning, and other places. 

The History of Winds supplies particulars for all the poetic 
allusions to meteorological or nautical matters which are met 
with in the plays, poems, and emblem books of the time. Here 
it will be seen how weirdly and exquisitely these studies of 
meteorological facts are interwoven with metaphysical sub- 
tleties, such as are met with in Macbeth and The Tempest. 
Meteorology and the " sane astrology " which Bacon finds to be 
a desideratum, mix themselves up with the science of medicine 
— in his time " forsaken by philosophy," " a weak thing, not 
much better than an empirical art," " a science more practised 
than laboured, more laboured than advanced; the labours spent 
on it being rather in a circle than in progression. " 

As for the art of prolonging life, he " sets it down as deficient," 
and writes a book (apparently with a double meaning) on the 
subject. The History of Life and Death is bound up with the 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 171 

Rnsicrucian New Atlantis and the Natural History, which we 
believe correspond with the Libriim Natarce of the fraternity, 
and tiie simple remedies and recipes which Bacon prescribes 
and publishes stand as records of the elementary state of 
knowledge in his time. Metaphysics lead to the consideration of 
the doctrine of dreams — " a thing which has been laboriously 
handled and/>«Z^ of follies.''^ It is connected with the " doctrine 
of the sensible soul, which is a fit subject of inquiries, even as 
regards its substance, but such inquiries appear to me 
deficient." i 

The knowledge of human nature, of men's wants, thoughts, 
characters, is also entirely neglected yet. " The nature and state 
of man is a subject which deserves to be emancipated and made 
a knowledge of itself. " In the Sylva Sylvarmn he devotes many 
paragraphs to preparations for advancing this much-neglected 
art, noting even the small gestures and tokens by which the 
body of man reflects and betrays the mind. These notes 
furnish a compendium of hints not only for the metaphysician, 
but also for the artist, the orator, and the actor; there is hardly 
one which is not sure to be used with effect in the Shakespeare 
plays. 

Let us sum up briefly the deficiencies in knowledge which, so 
far, we have learnt from Bacon to observe in the works of his 
predecessors, but which were being rapidly supplied during his 
life and in the succeeding generation: 

Natural Science, - ox Physics and Chemistry, with experiments 
and demonstrations — deficient. 

Natural History,"^ excepting a few books of subtleties, varie- 
ties, catalogues, etc. — deficient. 

Horticulture and Husbandry,^ totally or partially deficient. 

Meteorology'^ in all its branches — deficient. 

1 De Aug. iv. Spedding, iv. 373-379. 

2 See Advancement of Learning and De Augmentis; Nov. Organum; NfW 
Atlantis; Sylva Sj-lvarum. 

3 8ylva Sylvanim; New Atlantis; Parasceve. 

4 Sylva Sylvarum; Ess. Of G.ardens; Plantations. 

5 Nov. Org.; Hist, of Winds; Ebb and Flow of the Sea, etc. 



172 FBANCIS BACON 

Astronomy, i weak, with good foundations, but by no means 
sound. 

Astrology,^ not to be despised, but not practised so as to be 
useful or sane. 

Medicine;^ Pathology and the Art of Prolonging Life — defic- 
ient. 

3Ietaphysics,^ or the Doctrine of the Human Soul, and of the 
influence of mind on body — deficient. 

Physiognomy and Gestures,^ study of them — deficient. 

In order to minister to the extreme poverty of science in all 
these departments. Bacon, as has been said, drew up a catalogue 
of 130 " Histories " which he found wanting, and which he 
strove, by his own exertions, and with help from friends, to 
furnish, or at least to sketch out. 

Those who nourish the belief that, in the sixteenth century, 
the ordinary scribe or author could pick from casual reading, by 
intercourse in general society, or by his penny-worth of obser- 
vation, such a knowledge of scientific facts as is exhibited (though 
in a simple form) in the best plays of the time, will do well to 
consider this catalogue, and to reflect that the particulars in it 
are, for the most part, discussed as new and fruitful branches of 
information, or food for speculation, in the works of Bacon. To 
this consideration it would be well to add a study of the works 
of a similar description current before Bacon began to publish, and 
to see how much of the " popular science " which we connect with 
Bacon was known, say, in the year 1575, beyond the walls of the 
monastery or the cell of the philosopher. Then see how far 
such knowledge reappears in any pre-Baconian poetry. 

Bacon's method, says Spedding, in his dialogue with Ellis, 
" presupposed a History (or dictionary as you call it) of universal 
nature, a,8 a storehouse of facts to tvork on." ^ In these words 

1 Thema Cceli. 

2DeAug.; Sylva Syl varum. 

3 Hist. Life and Death, etc.; Ess. Regimen of Health, Recipes, etc. 

■* Doctrine of the Human Soul; De Aug., etc., etc. 

5 De Aug. ; Sylv. Sylv. 

6 Spedding, "Works, Preface to Parasceve. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 173 

the speaker uses the term exprcssiug the idea of Promus et 
Condus — the idea of a store from which things new and old 
should be drawn, of a store of rough material from which perfect 
pieces should be produced. Such a store he was himself en- 
gaged in making. 

To Speddiug's inquiry his interlocutor replies: " Bacon wanted 
a collection large enough to give him the command of all the 
avenues to t.he secrets of nature." It almost seems as if Mr. 
Ellis were quoting from the Promus itself, where many hints 
seem to be given of Bacon's proposals for working his secret 
society, and where we find these entries : "Avenues — Secrett 
de Dieu; Secrett de Dieu. " Are not these secrets of God cor- 
respondent to the secrets of nature to which Bacon would open 
avenues? Are they not the " things " known to the soothsayer 
who confesses, when taxed with his unusual knowledge: 
" In nature's infinite book of secresy 
A little I can read." i 

And we cannot fail to observe that the study of such things 
was attended with some perils to the student whose object was 
to keep them as much as possible out of sight and screened 
from hostile observation. The catalogue, instead of being in- 
corporated, as one would naturally expect, with the treatise 
itself, is detacbed from it, and sometimes omitted from the pub- 
lication. Some of the entries, moreover, are incomprehensible, 
excepting on the assumption that they, again, moralise two 
meanings in one word— of which more anon. 

But, we hear it said, " Grant that science, in modern accepta- 
tion of the term, was a new thing'in Bacon's time, and tbat he 
held nearly every department in it to be deticient; what of that? 
Grant that there was then no such thing as popular teaching on 
these subjects,. and that all branches of science have made 
tremendous strides during the past century. The same argu- 
ments cannot apply to the literature of the sixteenth and seven- 
teenth centuries. Have we not all been taught that those were 
the times when Spenser and Shakespeare grew to their full 

1 Ant. and Cleo. i. 2 



174 FRANCIS BACON 

powers, Spenser representiug Eughiud with its religious sense of 
duty combative; Sbaliespeare, enabled by tbat Euglisb earnest- 
ness to speak tbrough tbe bigbest poetry tbe bigbest trutb? 
Tbat tbe deptbs were stirred, and tbe spirit of tbe time drew 
from tbe souls of men tbe sweetest music, ennobling and elevat- 
ing rougb soldiers, mecbanics, and country louts into poets of 
tbe bigbest degree ? " 

But in trutb Bacon condemned tbe literary part of the 
knowledge of bis own time before be toucbed upon tbe scientific 
part, altbougb, for convenience, tbe order is bere reversed. Tbe 
second book of the Advancement treats of " tbe Divisions of tbe 
Sciences. " Tbere " all buman learning " is divided into History, 
Poesij, and Philosophy, witb reference to tbe tbree intellectual 
faculties. Memory, Imagination, Reason, and we are sbown that 
the same holds good in theology or divinity. 

History be again divides into natural and civil (which last 
includes ecclesiastical and literary history), and natural history 
is subdivided hito histories of generations and arts, and into 
natural history, narrative and inductive. So we see that tbe 
science comes last in Bacon's contemplations and method, 
altbougb, in tbe chair of sciences, it connects itself with tbe first 
part of buman learning — history. But bere at once he discovers 
a deficiency. "Tbe history of learning — without which tbe 
history of tbe world seems to me as the statue of Polyphemus 
without the eye, tbat very feature being left out which marks 
the spirit and life of the person — I set doivn as wanting.''^ As 
usual he gives a summary of tbe requisites for this work, and 
tbe best method of compiling such a history from tbe principal 
works written in each century from tbe earliest ages, " tbat by 
tasting them here and there, and observing their argument, 
style, and method, tbe literary spirit of each age may be 
charmed, as it were, from the dead. " 

Such a history would, he considers, greatly assist tbe skill of 
learned men. " It would exhibit the movements and pertur- 
bations which take place no less in intellectual than in civil 
matters. In short, it would be a step toward tbe true study 
of human nature," which was his aim. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 175 

Civil histor}-, tliougli pre-emiuent amougst modem writings, 
he linds to bo " beset on all sides by faults, " and that there is 
nothing rarer than a true civil history, vphich he subdivides into 
Memorials, Commentaries, Perfect History, and Antiquities. 
" For memorials are the rough drafts of history, and antiquities 
are history defaced, or remnants of history, which, like the spars 
of a shipwreck, have recovered somewhat from the deluge of 
time." 

No defects need be noticed in the annals, chronologies, registers, 
and collections of antiquities, which he classes with '' imperfect 
histories." They are of their very nature imperfect, but they 
are not to be condemned like epitomes, "things which have 
fretted and corroded the bodies of most excellent histories, and 
wrought them into unprofitable dregs. " There are many collec- 
tions, annals, chronologies, chronicles, commentaries, registers, 
etc., which began to appear in Bacon's time, in accordance with 
his instructions and suggestions, if not with direct help from 
him. 

" Just and perfect history is of three kinds, according to the 
object which it propoundeth or pretendeth to present; for it pre- 
senteth either a time or a person or an action. The first of these 
we call Chronicles, the second Lives, and the third Narratives. 
Though the first be the most complete, and hath most glory, yet 
the second excelleth it in use, and the third in truth. For history 
of times representeth the greatness of actions, and the pubhc faces 
and behaviour of perscms; it passeth over in silence the smaller 
events and actions of men and matters. But such being the 
workmanship of God, that He doth hang the greatest weight 
upon the smallest wires,i it comes to pass that such histories do 
rather set forth the pomp of business than the true and inward 
resorts (or springs) thereof. Insomuch that you may find a truer 
picture of human life in some satires than in such htstories." 
But well-written " lives and histories are likely to be more 
purely true, because their argument is within the knowledge 
and observation of the writer.2 All three kinds of history are, 

1 "Thus hast thou hang'd our life on brittle pins." Translation of Psl. xc. 
"The M-holo frame stands upon pins." 2d Henrj^ IV. iii. 2. 

2 Advt. ii. 1. 



176 FRANCIS BACON 

nevertheless, " so full of many and great deficiencies," that he 
says: " Even to mention them would take too much time. " He 
would himself have undertaken the business in good earnest 
if James had given him any encouragement. But in this, as in 
many other things, he failed to rouse the dull King, whom he 
vainly tried to make as wise as he thought himself. The frag- 
ment of the " History of Great Britain " hints at Bacon's efforts 
in this direction, and there are several largo books which will 
probably some day be acknowledged as part of the " collections" 
made by Bacon, or under his direction, to this end.i 

For lives, he thinks it most strange that they have been so 
neglected, and counts them among the deficients. 

Narrations and relations are also to be wished, since a good 
collection of small particulars would be as a nursery-ground, 
raising seedlings to plant when time will serve a fair and stately 
garden. 2 

Other parts of learning, as appendices to history, as orations, 
letters, brief speeches or sayings and letters, he considers an im- 
portant branch of history. " Letters are according to the variety 
of occasions, advertisements, advices, directions, propositions, 
petitions, commendatory, expostulatory, satisfactory, of com- 
pliment, of pleasure, of discourse, and all other passages of action. 
And such as are written from wise men are, of all the words of 
man, in my judgment, the best, for they are more natural than 
orations and public speeches, and more advised than conferences 
or present speeches. So, again, letters of affairs, from such as 
manage them or are privy to them, are, of all others, the best 
instructions for history and, to a diligent reader, the best his- 
tories in themselves. " 3 

Bacon's own letters are, of themselves, a good illustration of 
his doctrine; but there are other collections of letters, such as 
Sir Tobic Matthew's correspondence, with names and dates can- 

1 See "The Chronicles of the Kings of England from the Time of tlie Romans 
Government to the Death of King James." \iy Sh- Samuel Baker. On the front- 
ispiece of the third edition is a vignette of Verulam. 

2 De All!/, ii. 7. See, also, "The Collection of the History of England," 
Samuel Daniel, 3d edu. 1636. 

3 Advt. ii. 1. . 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 177 

celled, and the collection by Howell, entitled HorceEliance, which 
seem as if they had been written with a further purpose than 
that of mere correspondence between friend and friend. The 
vast chasm, in point of diction, between these and the letters 
written by ordinary persons of good breeding and education in 
Bacon's time, may be well gauged by a comparson with them of 
the sixteen folio volumes of Anthony Bacon's correspondence at 
the library belonging to Lambeth Palace, or the letters in the 
Cottonian and Hatton Finch collections at the British Museum. 

Next, Bacon commends the collecting of apophthegms or witty 
sayings. " The loss of that book of Cesar's " is, he thinks, a 
misfortune, since no subsequent collection has been happy in the 
choice. His own collection, with the supplementary anecdotes, 
which are sometimes ranked as " spurious," still remain to us; 
the former, we think, possessing a double value, inasmuch as it 
seems probable that, in one edition at least, it forms a kind of 
cipher or key to the meaning of other works. 

As to the heathen antiquities of the world, " it is in vain to 
note them as deficient, " for, although they undoubtedly are so, 
consisting mostly of fables and fragments, " the deficiency can- 
not be holpen; for antiquity is like fame — caput inter nubile 
condit — her head is muffled from our sight, "i He does not 
allude to his own Wisdom of the Ancients, or to other kindred 
works, which, although they seem to have bsen published later, 
yet bear traces of having been the more difiuse and cruder studies 
which were the eaily products of Bacon's youthful studies.2 

He draws attention to the history which Cornelius Tacitus 
made, coupling this with annals and journals, which again he 
finds to be in his own day deficient. 

We observe that no hint is dropped about Camden's Annals. 
The omission is the more significant, seeing that in that work we 
have before us Bacon's own notes and additions. 

Now he passes on to " Memorials, commentaries, and regis- 
ters, which set down a bare continuance and tissue of actions 

1 Advt. iii. 1. 

2 See particularly Mystagogus Poeticus, or the Muses' Interpreter, 2nd edn., 
much enlarged by Alexander Eoss, 1648. 

12 



178 FRANCIS BA CON 

and events, without the causes and pretexts, and other passages 
of action ; for this is the true nature of a commentary, though 
Cffisar, in modesty mixed with greatness, chuse to apply the 
name of commentary to the best history extant." i There are 
some " Observations on Caesar's Commentaries "2 which are de- 
serving of notice in connection with this subject, although they 
bear on the title-page the name of Clement Edmundes, yet that 
very title-page is adorned with a portrait which strikingly resem- 
bles portraits of Francis Bacon. Here he is as a lad of about 
sixteen years old, and the internal evidence of the work renders 
it highly probable that this was merely one of his many juvenile 
productions. Several other works of a similar nature, with 
some geographical manuals, such as '' Microcosmus, or a 
Little Picture of a Great World," and large works, such as the 
" Discovery of Guiana " and " A 'History of the World " (in 
which history, politics, and personal adventure are largely inter- 
mixed with geography), began to make their appearance 
about this time, and assisted in completing Bacon's great plan 
for the dissemination of universal knowledge. He affirms, '' to 
the honour of his times and in a virtuous enudation with antiquity, 
that this great Building of the World never had through lights 
made in it till the age of us and our fathers. For, although they 
had knowledge of the antipodes, yet that might be by demon- 
stration and not by fact, and if by travel, it requireth the voy- 
age but of half the globe. But to circle the earth, as the 
heavenly bodies do, was not done nor attempted till these later 
times, and therefore these times may justly bear in their word 
not on] J plus ultra in precedence of the ancient non ultra, and 
imitabile fulmen in precedence of the ancient non imitabile ful- 
men, etc., but, likewise, imitabile caelum, in respect of the many 
memorable voyages, after the manner of heaven, about the globe 
of the earth." 

He never loses sight of the great object which he has at heart, 
of bringing lights into the darkness in which the world is lying; 
never for an instant forgets his darling hope that the advance- 

1 De Aug. ii. 6. 

2 Published, Lowndes, 1609. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 179 

ment of geographical knowledge may be made a means of 
" mingling heaven and earth. " When considering the deficien- 
cies not only of knowledge, but of language in which to express 
knowledge, it will not be amiss to draw attention to the words 
of Hallam concerning the works of Sir Walter Raleigh, i especially 
" The History of the World. " The reader should reflect whether 
it is more probable that the adventurous soldier and busy man 
of the world should have been capable of writing such a book as 
the one in question (filled as it is with Baconian beauties of dic- 
tion and sentiment), or that Bacon, visiting his interesting friend 
in the Tower, should have induced him to beguile the tedious 
day and drive away the heavy thoughts of care by writing or 
compiling, with his help, the work to which Sir Walter con- 
tributed the experience of his own travels, but for which Bacon 
himself furnished the plan, the erudition, and the diction. 

"We should," says Hallara, "expect from the prison-hours 
of a soldier, a courtier, a busy intriguer in state affairs, a poet, 
and a man of genius, something well worth our notice; but 
hardly a prolix history of the ancient world, hardly disquisitions 
on the site of Paradise and the travels of Cain. The Greek 
and Roman story is told more fully and exactly than by any 
earlier English author, and with a plain eloquence which has 
given this book a classical reputation in our language. Raleigh 
has intermingled political reflections and illustrated his history 
by episodes from modern times, which perhaps are now the most 
interesting passages. It descendsonly to the second Macedonian 
war. There is little now obsolete in the words of Raleigh, nor 
to any great degree in his turn of phrase; ... he is less pedantic 
than most of his contemporaries, seldom low, never affected. " 

Not science only, or natural history, or the history of the 
world and of individuals, but arts and inventions of all kinds* 
were, in Bacon's opinion, equally "at a standstill." " As to 
philosophy, men ivorship idols, false appearances, shadows, not 



1 It is not unworthy of inquiry, Was Raleigh (whose name is variously spelt) 
any relation of the Dr. Rawley who was Bacon's chaplain and confidential sec- 
retary- ? 



180 FBAN CIS BACON 

substance; i they satisfy their minds with the deepest fallacies. 
The methods and frameworks which I have hitherto seen, there 
is none of any worth, all of them carry in their titles the face 
of a school and not of a world, having vulgar and pedautical 
divisions, not such as pierce the heart of things. " 

Then, for the art of memory, " the inquiry seems hitherto to 
have been pursued weakly and languidly enough ; ... it is a 
barren thing, as now applied for human uses. 'The feats of 
memory now taught, I do esteem no more than I do the tricks and 
antics of clowns and rope-dancers^ matters, - perhaps of strange- 
ness, but not of worth. '' 

Passing from natural and physical science to philology, or, as 
Bacon calls it, " philosophic grammar, " we again find it " set 
down as wanting." " Grammar," he says, *' is the harbinger of 
other sciences — an office not indeed very noble, but very 
necessary, especially as sciences, in our age, are principally 
drawn from the learned languages, and are not learned in our 
mother's tongue. . . . Grammar, likewise, is of two sorts— the 
one being literary, the other philosophical. " The first of these 
is used chiefly in the study of foreign tongues, especially in the 
dead languages, but " the other ministers to philosophy." This 
reminds him that C;Bsar wrote some books on " analogy, " and 
a doubt occurs whether they treated of this kind of philosophical 
grammar. Suspecting, however, that they did not contain any- 
thing subtle or lofty, he takes the hint as to another deficiency, 
and thinks " of a kind of grammar which should diligently 
inquire, not the analogy of words with one another, but the 
analogy between words and things, or reason, not going so far 
as that interpretation which belongs to logic. Certainly words 
are the footsteps of reason, and the footsteps tell something 
about the body. . . . The noblest kind of grammar, as I think, 
would be this: If some one well seen in a number of tongues, 

1 Compare: "He takes fa/.se shadows iov true suhstances." (Tit. And. iii. 2.) 
"Your falsehood shall become jon well to vws/iij) shadows and adore false 
shapes." [Tiv. G. Ver. iv. 1, rJ3-"l.31.) Mer. Wiv. ii. 2, 215. Mer. Ven. iii. 2, 
12&-130; and comp. 1. 73-80. Blchard II. ii. 2, 14. 1 Ilmrxj VI. ii. 3, 62, 63. 

2 This line seems to throw light upon Petrucio's powers of vituperative 
rhetoric — "He'll rail in his roi)e tricks." [lam. Sh. i. 2.) 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. . 181 

learned as well as common, would handle the various properties 
of languages, showing in what points each excelled, in what it 
failed. For so, not only may languages be enriched by mutual 
exchanges, but the several beauties of each may be combined, 
as in the Venus of Apelles, into a most beautiful image and 
excellent model of speech itself, for the right expression of the 
meanings of the mind." 

As in everything else which Bacon noted as unattempted or 
unachieved, we find him endeavoring to supply the deficiencies 
in language which were universal in his day. He does not hint 
that Ben Jonson, Shali;espeare, and others had been for years 
pouring Latin words into our language, trying experiments in 
words which had never been tried before, coining, testing, and 
rejecting, in the same manner, precisely, in which Bacon himself 
was coining, testing, rejecting, or making current, the new 
words which he entered in his Promus. That he was coining, 
intentionally, we know from his habit of supplementing his new 
word with its nearest synonym, and also from the frequent 
recurrence of such expressions as: " So I call it, " " As it were, " 
" As I term it, " etc. 

Bacon suggests i the making of " a store " of forms of speech, 
prefaces, conclusions, digressions, transitions, excusations, and 
a number of the kind, as likewise deficient. He subjoins 
specimens of these. " Such parts of speech answer to the 
vestibules, back-doors, ante-chambers, withdrawing-chambers, 
passages, etc., of a house, and may serve, indiscriminately, for all 
subjects. For as, in buildings, it is a great matter, both for 
pleasure and use, that the fronts, doors, windows, approaches, 
passages, and the like, be conveniently arranged, so, also, in 
a speech, such accessories and passages, if handsomely and 
skilfully placed, add a great deal, being both of ornament and 
effect to the entirestructure. " Surely he is here thinking of 
the construction of his Solomon's House. He then gives a few 
instances from Demosthenes and Cicero, having " nothing of his 
own to add to this part." Nothing, he means, which lie chose 
to publish at that time, as a store of the kind. That he had it, 

1 DeAug. vi. 3, 492. 



182 . FRANCIS BACON 

and had used it in all his works for thirty or forty years, and 
with marvellous effect, we now know well from the internal 
evidence of those works. In the Promus is a consecutive list 
of one hundred and twenty-six short expressions of single 
words, and farther on eighty more, which are all to be found in 
the early Shakespeare plays, and more rarely elsewhere. Some of 
these, such as " my L. S. '' (the " Lord, Sir, " of Lovers Lahoufs 
Lost and AlVs Well), are dropped in later plays. But by far 
the larger number, as "Believe me," "What else?" "Is it 
possible ? " " For the rest," " You put me in mind," " Nothing 
less," " Say that," etc., are met with throughout all the works 
which will hereafter be claimed as Bacon's. Most of these 
expressions are now such familiar and household terms that it 
seems strange to imagine that three hundred years ago they 
were not in everybody's mouth. What would be thought if it 
were found that any great orator of our own time had written 
down, intermixed with literary notes, which were carefully 
preserved, such notes as these : " Will you see? " " You take it 
right," " All this while," " As is," " I object," " I demand," 
" Well," " More or less," " Prima facie," " If that be so," " Is 
it because ? " " What else ? " " And how now ? " " Best of all, " 
" I was thinking, " " Say, then, " " You put me in mind, " " Good 
morning," " Good night "? 

Yet these are amongst the private notes " for store of forms 
and elegancies of speech." They are of the kind which Bacon, 
in his learned works, describes as deficient; which, even in his 
last great work, the Be Augmcntis, he still pronounces to be 
deficient and much needed for the building-up of a noble model 
of language. Can we doubt that in'such collections as this we 
see Bacon in labourer's clothes, digging tlie clay and gathering 
the stubble from all over the desolate fields of learning, to burn 
the bricks wherewith he would rebuild the temple of wisdom? 

Careful study and examination of these questions will surely 
prove that to Francis Bacon we owe, not only the grand specu- 
lative philosophy and the experimental science which are associ- 
ated with his name, and a vast number of works unacknowledged 
by him, though published during the sixteenth and seventeenth 



AND HIS SECBET SOCIETY. 183 

centuries, but also the very language in which those books 
are written, the " noble model of language " which has never 
been surpassed, and which constitutes the finest part of the 
finest writing of the present day. 

Now, to return to our hasty sketch of deficiencies in gram- 
mar and philology, we find, as might be expected, that, inas- 
much as words and graceful forms of speech were lacking, and 
the very machinery or organs of discourse imperfect, so " the 
proper rational method of discourse, i or rhetoric, for the trans- 
mission of knowledge, has been so handled as to defeat its 
object. " Logicians, by their artificial methods, have " so forced 
the kernels and grains of the sciences to leap out, that they are 
left with nothing in their grasp but the dry and barren husks." 

Changing the metaphor. Bacon declares that he finds the road 
to knowledge abandoned and stopped up, and, setting himself 
to the task of clearing the way, he quotes Solomon as to the use 
of eloquence, and again enforces the necessity of making collec- 
Uons. This time they are to be collections of " illustrations " 
which shall consider the opposite sides of every question, and 
show that there is a good as well as a bad side to every proposi- 
tion. " It is the business of rhetoric to make pictures of virtue 
and goodness that they may bo seen. And a store of sophisms, 
or the colours of good and evil, should be made, so that when 
men's natural inclinations mutiny, reason may, upon such a 
revolt of imagination, hold her own, and in the end prevail." 
These " points and stings of things " are by no means to be 
neglected ; yet they, like the rest, are deficient. 

Bacon wishes it to be plainly understood that the object of all 
this " provision of discourse" is to enable men readily to make 
use of their acquired knowledge. The system of noting, tabu- 
lation, and indexing which he enjoined, practised, and developed 
into a perfect system in his secret society is, he says, rather an 
exercise of patience, a matter of diligence, than of erudition. 
" Aristotle derided the sophists who practised it, saying that 
they did as if a shoemaker should not teach how to make 
a shoe, but should only exhibit a number of shoes of all fashions 

1 " An honest method, as wholesome as sweet." {Ham. ii. '2.) 



184 FEANCIS BACON 

and sizes. Far otherwise said our Saviour, speaking of divine 
knowledge : Every scribe that is instructed in the Kingdom of 
Heaven is like a householder that bringeth forth old and new 
store. " His own notes were to him the store or Prornus from 
which he drew. They correspond to the last collection, which 
he specially recommends, namely, ** a store of commonplaces, in 
which all kinds of questions and studies, prepared beforehand, 
are argued on either side, and not only so, but the case exag- 
gerated both ways with the utmost force of wit, and urged 
unfairly, and, as it were, beyond the truth. " For the sake of 
brevity and convenience, these commonplaces should be con- 
tracted into concise sentences, " to be like reels of thread, easily 
unwound when they are wanted." These he calls the " an- 
titheses of things," and, having a great many by him, he gives, 
''■ by way of example, "/orf^-seww antitheta, which, " although 
perhaps of no great value, yet as I long ago prepared them, I 
was loth to let the fruit of my youthful industry perish — the 
rather (if they be carefully examined) they are seeds only, and 
not flowers." 

These antitheta, which pervade the whole of Bacon's works, 
and which indeed tend to the formation of the most remarkable 
points in his style, may equally well be seen in the Shakespeare 
plays and poetry, whose " highly antithetical style" is the sub- 
ject of comment by nearly every critic of the varied resources 
of his expressive diction. 

From the discussion of words, phrases, life, and rhetoric (all 
of which he finds to be fundamentally defective), Bacon passes 
on to sound, measure, and accent; explaining, as to novices in 
the art, the most elementary principles of elocution, rhythm, 
and prosody. '' The sound belonging to sweetnesses and harsh- 
nesses, the hiatus caused by vowels coming together," the dif- 
ference in the use of diphthongs in Greek and Latin, and some 
peculiarities in various languages — of these things he has soon 
" had more than enough," and he gladly turns to his congenial 
subject, poesy. 

Now on this score, at least, one might expect that he could 
congratulate his countrymen. But all that he is able to say is 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 185 

that " Poesy has produced a vast body of art, considered, wo« to 
the matter of it, but to the form of words. " All words, no matter, 
nothmg from the heart ! i Is this all that can be said for the 
poetry of an age which produced the Faerie Queene, The Shep- 
herd's Calendar, the Shakespeare plays, poems and sonnets, the 
works of Ben Jonson, Marlowe, Middleton, Chapman, Webster, 
the hymns and spiritual songs of Herbert, Quarles, Withers, 
Cowley, Crashaw, and a host of " minor poets " 1 Are we to 
believe that Bacon included these in his vast body of art 
considered, not in regard to the matter, but to the words of it? 
Poetry to be lovely must have matter as well as art. It should 
be the spontaneous overflow of a full mind, stored to the brim 
with " true history," with a knowledge of nature, and especially 
of human nature; for " by Poesy," says Bacon, " / mean here 
nothing else than feigned history.''^ Shakespeare formed the same 
estimate of true poetry: 

Audrey. I do not know what poetical is ; ... is it a tme thing? 

Touchstone. Xo, truly, for the truest poetry is the mostfeiyiiiiiq, and what they 
swear in poetry may be said, as lovers, thty do feign. ... If thou wert a poet, 
I might have some hope thou didst feign ? '^ 

Bacon reminds us more than once of all that poets feign^ in 
their histories, but he fails not to show that "a/Z invention " or 
imaginative power " is hut memory,'^ and that " a man is only 
ivhat he knoivs. " In vain would weaker wits endeavour to per- 
suade us that " reading and writing come by nature," or that a 
man can write well about matters concerning which he can 
never have had the opportunity of duly informing himself. 
Poesy, indeed, being " free and licensed, may at pleasure make 
unlawful matches and divorces of things," but the poet must be 
acquainted with those things before he can either match or 

divorce them. 

« , 

1 Compare: "Who will for a triclsy word defy the matter.'^ {Merchant of 
Ve7iife, iii. 5 ) "More rich in matter than in words." (Romeo and Juliet, ii. 6.) 
"Words, words, mere words, nothing from the heart." [Trolbis and Cressida, 
V. 3.) '• More matter with less art." (Hamlet, \\. 2.) "This nothing's more than 
matter." (Ibid. iv. 5.) "When priests are more in words than matter." 
(Lear, iii. 2 and iv. 6.) 

2Z>e Augmentis. 3 As You Like It, iii. 5. 

* 3 Henry VI. i. 2. Merchant of Venice, v. 1, etc. 



186 FRANCIS BACON 

The first study of the poet should be history, " which is prop- 
erly/ concerned with individuals,! and whose impressions are 
the first and most ancient guests of the human mind, and are 
as the primary material of knowledge. " This is no passing 
thought of Bacon's, but a firm conviction, of whicli he set forth 
a visible illustration on the title-page of the Advancement of 
Learning. Here we see two pyramids, that on the right based 
upon Divinity, and rising into the study of human nature; that 
on the left based on Philosophy, and issuing in History and Poe- 
try. Bacon describes the process of poetic evolution : 

'' The images of individuals are received into the sense, and 
fixed in the memory. They pass into the memory whole, just as 
they present themselves. Then the uiind recalls and reviews 
them, and, which is its proper office, compounds or divides the 
parts of which they consist. For individuals have something 
in common with each other, and again something different, and 
the composition of one characteristic with another is either 
according to the pleasure of the mind or according to the 
nature of things as it exists in fact. If it be according 
to the pleasure of the mind of the composer, and that the 
various characteristics of one person are mixed or compounaed 
with those of another, then the work is a work of imagination; 
which, not being bound by any law or necessity of nature, may 
join things whicli are never found together in nature, and sepa- 
rate things which in nature are never found apart." 

Now, truly, Bacon realised the " tricks of strong imagination, " 

" Shaping fantasies that apprehend 
More than cool reason ever comprehends," 

bodying forth the forms of things unknown, whilst the poet's 

pen 

" Turns them to shapes and gives to airy nothing 
A local habitation and a name." 2 

The antithetical view of the question is best seen in Antony 
and Cleopatra, where Cleopatra, recalling the memory of Antony, 
" whole as it presents itself," is yet struck by the inadequacy of 
her efibfts to combine so many noble features in one image: 

1 " The proper study of mankind is man." 

2 See M. N. D. v. 1, 1-28. 



AND ins SECRET SOCIETY. 187 

"Natuie -n-ants stuflF 
To vie strange forms with fancy, yet to imagine 
An Antony were nature's peace 'gainst fancy, 
Condemning shadows quite, l 

" If, on the other hand, these same parts or characteristics of 
individuals are compounded or divided, as tliey really show them- 
selves in nature, this is the business and duty of Reason. From 
these three fountains of Memory, Imagination, and Reason tlow 
three emanations of History, Poesy, and Philosophy, and there 
cannot bo more or other than these ; they even include Theology. 
For whether information enters or is conveyed into the mind by 
revelation or by sense, the human spirit is one and the same, and 
it is but as if different liquors were poured through different fun- 
nels into one and the same vessel." 

He goes on to show that Poesy is to be taken in two senses, in 
regard to words or matter. " In the first sense it is but a kind of 
speech, verse being only a kind of style and having nothing to do 
with the matter or subject; for true history may be written in 
verse,and feigned history or fiction may be written in prose. "2 
Bacon adds, in the De Augmentis, that in the " style and form oj 
words, that is to say, metre and verse, the art we have is a very 
small thing, though the examples are large and innumerable." 

" The art which grammarians call Prosody should not be con- 
fined to teaching the kinds and measures of verse, but precepts 
should be added as to the kinds of verse which best suit each 
matter or subject." He shows how the ancients used hexame- 
ters, elegiacs, iambic and lyric verse, with this view. Modern 
imitation fell short, because, with too great zeal for antiquity, 
the writers tried to train the modern languages into ancient 
measures, incompatible with the structure of the languages, and 
no less offensive to the ear. " But for poesy, whether in stories or 
metre, it is like a luxuriant plant that cometh of the lust of the 
earth and without any formal seed. Wherefore it spreads every- 
where, and is scattered far and wide, so that it would be vain to take 
thought about the defects of it." Yet he levels a parting shaft 
at these defects, observing that, although accents in tvords have 
been carefully attended to, the accentuation of sentences has not 
been observed at all. 

1 Ant. and CI. v. 2, 2 Intellectual Globe. 



188 FRANCIS BACON 

Narrative Poesy is a mere imitation of History, such as might 
pass for real, only that it commonly exaggerates things beyond 
probability. 

Dramatic Poesy is History made visible, for it represents 
actions as if they were present, whereas History represents them 
as past. 

Parabolic Poesy is typical history, by which ideas that are ob- 
jects of the intellect are represented in forms that are objects 
of the sense. 

As for Narrativeor Her oical Poesy, " the foundation of it is truly 
noble, and has a special relation to the dignity of human nature. 
For as the sensible world is inferior in dignity to the rational 
soul, poesy seems to bestow upon human nature those things 
which history denies to it, and to satisfy the mind with the 
shadows of things when the substance cannot be obtained. " 

So, in his Device of Philautia, the soldier is made to say : " The 
shadoivs of games are but counterfeits and shadotvs, when in a 
lively tragedy a man's enemies are sacrificed before his eyes, "etc. 

Theseus has the same thought that poetry is the shadow of 
things. He does not despise the shadow when the substance 
cannot be obtained, although Hippolyta pronounces the rural 
play to be the silliest stuff that e'er she heard. He replies: 
" The best in this kind are but shadoivs, and the worst are no 
worse, if imagination mend them. " i 

Puck, too, in his apology for himself and his fellow- players, 
calls them shadows. 

" And the reason why poesy is so agreeable to the spirit of man 
is that he has a craving for a more perfect order and more 
beautiful variety than can be found in nature since the fall. 
Therefore, since the acts and events of real history are not grand 
enough to satisfy the human mind, poesy is at hand to feign 
acts more heroical ; since the issues of actions in real life are 
far from agreeing with the merits of virtue and vice, poesy cor- 
rects history, exhibitiug events and fortunes as according to merit 
and the law of Providence. Since true history wearies the mind 
with common events, poetry refreshes it by reciting things un- 
expected and various. So that this poesy conduces not only to 

1 M. N. D. V. 2. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 189 

delight, but to magnanimity and morality. Whence it may 
fairly be thought to partake somewhat of a divine nature, be- 
cause it raises the mind aloft, accommodating the shows of 
things to the desires of the mind, not (like reason and historv) 
buckling and bowing down the mind to the nature of things. '"' i 

" By these charms and that agreeable congruity which it has 
with man's nature, accompanied also with music, to gain more 
sweet access, poesy has so won its way as to have been held in 
honour even in the rudest ages and among barbarous people, 
when other kinds of learning were utterly excluded. "2 

Can it be doubted that he intended so to use it in his own age, 
still so rude, though so self-satisfied? In a previous chapter 
he has described Minerva as " forsaken," and he proposes " to 
make a hymn to the muses, because it is long since their rites 
were duly celebrated. " 3 Years before this he said the same in 
the Device of Philautia, which was performed before the Queen 
A hermit is introduced, who, in his speech, exhorts the squire 
to persuade his master to offer his services to the muses. " It is 
long since they received any into their court. They give alms 
continually at their gate, that many come to live upon, but few 
have they ever admitted into their palace." Elsewhere he 
speaks of " the poverty of experiences and knowledge," * " the 
poverty and scantiness" of the subjects which till now have 
occupied the minds of men." 5 

And so in the Midsummer Nighfs Dream (v. 1) we finds 
" The tlirice-thrce muses mourning for the death 
Of Learning, late deceas'd iu beggaiy." 

And the Princess in Love's Labours Lost (v. 2), exclaims, 
when the King and his masque and musicians depart: 
" Are these the breed of •wits so •vrondered at ? 
Well-liking wits they have ; gross, gross ; fat fat. 
O poverty in wit, Hngly-poor &out\" 

And Biron says the study of 

" Slow arts entirely keep the brain*, 
And, therefore, finding barren practisers, 
Scarce show a harvest of their heavy toil." 

1 De Aug. ii. 13. 

2 De Aug. ii. 13. "Aye, much is the force of hoaven-bred poesy."— Tw G 
Ver. iii. 2. 3 Advt. L. i. 4 Int. Nat. 10. 5 Nov. Org. i. 85. 



190 FMANCIS BACON 

In the Anatomy of Melancholy, the author (Bacon, as we 
believe) says that "poetry and beggary are Gemini, twin- born 
brats, inseparable companions. 

"And to this day is every scholar poor: 
Gross gold from them runs headlong to the boor." 

And now we come to dramatic poesy, a section which Bacon 
seems carefully to have omitted in the English edition of the 
Advancement of Learning. That edition would, during his own 
lifetime, be chiefly read by his own countrymen, and might 
draw attention to his connection with the drama and stage 
plays, arts which, as we have seen, he held to be of the highest 
value and importance, although in his time corrupt, degraded, 
plainly neglected, and esteemed but as toys. 

" Dramatic poesy, which has the theatre for its world, would 
be of excellent use if well directed. For the stage is capable of 
no small influence, both of discipline and of corruption. Now, 
of corruptions in this kind we have had enough; but the disci- 
pline has, in our times, been plainly neglected. And though 
in modern states play-acting is esteemed but as a toy, except 
when it'is too satirical and biting, yet among the ancients it was 
used as a means of educating men's minds to virtue. Nay, it 
has been regai-ded by learned men and great philosophers ns a 
kind of musician's bow, by which men's minds may be pla\ed 
upon. And certainly it is most true, and one of the great 
secrets of nature, that the minds of men are more open to 
impressions and affections when many are gathered together, 
than when they are alone." i 

He returns to the subject later on, in connection with rhetoric 
and other arts of transmitting knowledge: 

" It will not be amiss," he says, " to observe that even mean 
faculties, when they fall into great men or great matters, work 
great and important elfects. Of this I will bring forward an 
example worthy to be remembered, the more so because the 
Jesuits appear not to despise this kind of discipline, therein 
judging, as I think, well. It is a thing indeed, if practised pro- 
fessionally, of low repute; but if it be made a part of discipline 
it is of excellent use. I mean stage playing — an art which 
f r \\ ngthens the memory, reflates the tone and effect of the 

IDeAug. ii. 13. 



AKD HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 191 

voice aud pronunciation, teaches a decent carriage of the coun- 
tenance and gesture, gives not a little assurance, and accustoms 
young men to bear being looked at." 

He then gives an example from Tacitus (not from Hamlet) of 
a player who 

" in a fiction, in a dream of passion, 
Could force his soul so to his whole conceit 
That, from her working, all his visage wann'd. 
Teais in his eyes, distraction in 's aspect, 
A broken voice, and his whole function suiting 
To his conceit, 

and who so moved and excited his fellow-soldiers with a fictitious 
account of the murder of his brother that, had it not shortly 
afterward appeared that nothing of the sort had happened, or, 
as Hamlet says, that it was " all for nothing " — ^" nay, that he 
never had a brother, would hardly have kept their hands ofl" the 
prefect; but the fact was, that he played the whole thing as if it 
had been a piece on the stage." i 

Highly as Bacon extols Poetry in all its branches, but especially 
in the narrative and dramatic forms, he yet gives to Parabolic 
Poetry a still more distinguished place, and this would certainly 
strike us as strange if it were not that this parabolic method is 
found to be so intimately connected with the whole question 
of secret societies, their symbols, ciphers, and hieroglyphics. 

In the De Augmentis we cannot fail to see that he is every- 
where leading up to a secret description of his own system of 
conveying covert or hidden information and of moralising two 
meanings in one word. 

" Parabolic Poesy is of a higher character than the others, 
and appears to be something sacred and venerable, especially 
as religion itself commonly uses its aid as a means of communi- 
cation between divinity and humanity. But this, too, is corrujJted 
by the levity ahd idleness of wits in dealing with allegory. It 
is of double use, aud serves for contrary purposes, for it serves 
for an Infoldment, and it likewise serves for illustration. In the 
latter case the object is a method of teaching, in the former an 

1 De Aug. vi. 9. 



192 FRANCIS BACON 

artifice for coucq^^lment. " He goes on to show how, in days 
when men's minds were not prepared for the reception of new 
ideas, they were made more capable of receiving them by means 
of examples; and hence the ancient times are full of parables, 
riddles, and similitudes. 

That this was Bacon's strong and well considered opinion 
appears from its frequent repetition in his works. The admirable 
preface to The Wisdom of the Ancients enters into this subject 
with considerable detail, and is peculiarly interesting on account 
of the indisputable evidence which it affords that these things 
were new in Bacon's day; that it was he who revived the use of 
trope and metaphor ; who taught men, in days when this 
knowledge of the ancients had been all but extinguished, to 
light up or illustrate, " not only antiquity, but the things 
themselves. " 

Again, repeating that there are two contrary ends to be 
answered by the use of parable, which may serve as well to 
wrap up and envelop secret teaching, as openly to instruct, he 
points out that, even if we drop the concealed use, and consider 
the ancient fables only as stories intended for amusement. 

" Still the other use must remain, and can never he given up. 
And every man of any learning must allow that this method of 
histructing is grave, sober, or exceedingly useful, and sometimes 
necessary in the sciences, as it opens an easy and familiar pass- 
,age to the human understanding in all new discoveries that are 
abstruse and out of the road of vulgar opinions. Hence, in the 
first ages, when such inventions and conclusions of the human 
reason as are now trite and common were new and little known, 
all things i abounded with fables, parables, similes, comparisons, 
and allusions, which were not intended to conceal, but to inform 
and teach, whilst the minds of men continued rude and unprac- 
tised in matters of subtlety and speculation, or even impatient, 
and in a manner uncapable of receiving such things as did not 
directly fall under and strike the senses. For, as hieroglyphics 
were in use before writing, so were parables in use before 
arguments. And even to this day, if any man would let new 

1 " If you look in the maps of the 'orld, you shall find in the comparisons 
between Macedon and Monmouth, that the situations, look you, is bothalike. . . . 
For there^s fiffures in all things. ... 1 speak but in the figures and comparisons 
of it." — lienry V. iv. 8. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 193 

light in upon the human understanding, and conquer prejudice, 
without raising contests, animosities, opposition, or disturbance, 
lie must still go on in the same path, and have recourse to the 
like method of allegory, metaphor, and allusion. 

" Now, whether any mystic meaning be concealed beneath the 
fables of the ancient poets is a matter of some doubt. For my 
own part I must confess that I am inclined to think that a 
mystery is involved in no small number of them. ... I take 
them to be a kind of breath from the traditions of more ancient 
nations, which fell into the pipes of the Greeks. But since that 
which has hitherto been done in the interpretation of these 
parables, being the work of skilful men, not learned beyond 
commonplaces, does not by any means satisfy me, I think tit 
to set down philosophy according to the ancient parables among 
the desiderata.'^ 

He then selects, as examples of his own interpretation of the 
ancient myths. Pan interpreted of the Universe and Natural 
Philosophy ; Perseus, of War and Political Philosophy; Dionysus, 
of Desire and Moral Philosophy. 

Who can read the scientific works of Bacon, or try really to 
understand his philosophy, without perceiving that, whatever he 
may have discovered, revived, instilled, or openly taught, his 
main object was to teach men to teach themselves? His" method" 
everywhere tends to this point. To get at general principles, to 
find out first causes, and to invent the art of inventing arts, 
and of handing down as well as of advancing the knowledge 
acquired — these were his aims. He is fully conscious that life is 
short and art is long, and therefore does not attempt to perfect 
any one department of science. He gives the keys and expects 
others to decipher the problems by means of those keys. He 
had very small respect for mere accumulations of detached facts, 
but he knew that generalisations could only be properly based 
upon such accumulations, classified and reduced to order, and 
that axioms to be true must be " drawn from the very centre of 
the sciences. " That he organised and supervised the making of 
such stores of facts and scraps of knowledge as fill the ponder- 
ous volumes of the encyclopedists of the sixteenth century, we 
do not for an instant doubt. Modern science, in its pride or 
conceit, has too often been inclined to disown its vast debts to 



194 FRANCIS BACON 

Bacon, because, forsooth, having worked with the whole mass 
of his accumulated knowledge to begin upon, whereas he began 
upon nothing, they now find short cuts to the invention of sciences 
for which he laboured when science was an empty name, and 
the art of invention unknown excepting by Bacon himself. That 
his works are ostensibly and intentionally left unfiuished, and 
that the book-lore of his time was to his mind thoroughly unsat- 
isfactory, and the store of knowledge acquired inadequate for 
the invention and advancement of arts and sciences, is made 
very plain in the " Filuni Labyrinild sive Formula Inquisitionis, " 
in which he relates to his sons^ (the Rosicrucian Fraternitv, of 
which he was the father) the thoughts which passed through 
his mind on this subject: 

** Francis Bacon thought in this manner. The knowledge 
whereof the world is now possessed, especially that of nature, 
extendeth not to magnitude and certainty of works. . . . When 
men did set before themselves the variety and perfection of works 
produced by mechanical arts, they are apt rather to admire 
the provisions of man than to apprehend his wants, not consid- 
ering that the original intentions and conclusions of nature, 
which are the life of all that variety, are not many nor deeply- 
fetched, and that the rest is but the subtle and ruled motion 
of the instrument and hand, and that the shop therein is not 
unlike the library, which in such number of books containeth, 
for the far greater part, nothing but iterations, varied some- 
times in form, but not new in substance. So he saw plainly that 
opinion of store was a cause of want, and that both books and 
doctrines appear many and are few. He thought, also, that 
knowledge is uttered to men in a form as if everything ivere fin^ 
ished, for it is reduced into arts and methods, which in their 
divisions do seem to include all that may be. And how weakly 
soever the parts are filled, yet they carry the shew and reason 
total, and thereby the writings of some received authors go 
for the very art; whereas antiquity used to deliver the knowl- 
edge which the mind of man had gathered in observations, 
aphorisms, or short and dispersed sentences, or small tractates 
of some parts that they had diligently meditated and laboured, 
which did invite men to ponder that which was invented, and to 
add and supply further. " 



1 In the left-hand comer of the MS., in the British Museum (Harl. MSS. 6797, 
fo. 139), there is written in Bacon's hand- Ad Filios. 



ANB ms SECRET SOCIETY. 195 

A vast number of such " small tractates " as Bacon liere men- 
tions will be found amongst the works which sprang up in his 
time and immediately after his death. They seem to be the 
result, for the most part, of diligent pondering upon the works 
which Bacon himself had "invented;" they reproduce his say- 
ings, paraphrasing, diluting, abridging, or delivering them in 
short and dispersed aphorisms, according to the method which 
he advocates as one means for the advancement of learning. 
The method is still extant, and Bacon continues, like evergreen 
history, to repeat himself. Often when unexpectedly we come 
upon his own words and apparently original thoughts, familiarly 
used as household words, or calmly appropriated by subsequent 
writers, we think how true it is that one man labours and others 
enter into his labours. 

Once more, a brief summary of the deficiencies which Bacon 
found in the literature and arts of discourse of his own times : 

1. A history of learning (anything in fact corresponding to 
Prof. H. Morley's Tables of English Literature). 

2. Civil history, biographies, commentaries, antiquities, 
chronicles, perfect histories. 

3. Appendices to history, orations, letters, apophthegms or 
brief sayings, etc. 

4. Registers, journals, memorials, etc. 

5. Helps to the art of memory. 

6. Philosophic grammar — (a.) Words new-coined. (&.) 
Words from foreign sources, (c.) A true grammar of language. 

7. A store or provision for discourse, forms of speech, elegan- 
cies, prefaces, conclusions, digressions, etc. 

8. A method of discourse and for the transmission of 
knowledge. 

9. " Collections, " dictionaries, encyclopediae, books of refer- 
ence. 

10. Store of sophisms. 

11. Store of antitheta, or arguments on all sides; common- 
places. 

12o Treatises on elocution and prosody, on sound, measure, 
and accent in poetry. 



196 FRANCIS BACON 

13. Dramatic poesy and the art of stage-playiug. 

14. Parabolic poetry; ttie use of symbols, emblems, hiero- 
glyphics, metaphors; the power of using analogies, etc.; fables, 
parables, allegories. 

Not one word does Bacon say about the prodigious increase in 
the richness of language which had taken place durhig his own 
life. As he wrote in the prime of his manhood, so he writes in 
the complete edition of the Advancement of Learning, published 
simultaneously with the Shakespeare plays in 1623. Ending 
where he began, and disregarding the mass of splendid literature 
which filled -up all numbers and surpassed the finest efi'orts of 
Greece and Rome, he calmly sets down philosophic grammar 
and the art of using beautiful language as " wanting." 



Il 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE EOSICKUCIANS : THEIR RULES, AIMS, AND METHOD OF 
WORKING. 

" Woorko when God woorkes." — Promiis. 

" To see how God in all His creatures works ! " — 2c^ Henrij VI. 

" Ripening would seem to be the proper work of the sun, . . . which operates 
by gentle action through long spaces of time, whereas the operations of fire, 
urged on by the impatience of man, are made to hasten their work." — ]Voi:u»i 
Ortjannvi. 

BRIEF and incomplete as are the previous chapters, it is hoped 
that they may serve their purpose of unsettUug the minds 
of those who suppose that the history, character, aims, and worli 
of Bacon are thoroughly understood, and that all is known that 
is ever likely to be known concerning him. 

The discrepancies of opinion, the tremendous gaps in parts of 
the story, the unexpected facts which persistent research and 
collation of passages have continued to unearth, the vast 
amount of matter of every description which (imless philology 
be an empty word and the study of it froth and vanity) 
must, in future years, be ascribed to Bacon, are such as to force 
the explorer to pause, and seriously to ask himself, Are these 
things possible? Could any one man, however gigantic his 
powers, however long hisliterary life, have produced all the works 
which we are forced by evidence, internal and, sometimes, also, 
external, to believe Bacon's — his in conception, in substance, in 
diction, even though often apparently paraphrased, interpolated, 
or altered by other hands? 

The mind of the inquirer turns readily toward the history of 
the great secret societies which were formed during the Middle 
Ages, and which became, in troublous times of church or state, 



198 FRANCIS BACON 

such tremendous engines for good and evil. A consequent study 
of tliese secret societies, their true origin, their aims, and, so far 
as they can be traced, their leaders, agents, and organs, renders 
it evident that, although, single-handed, such self-imposed 
labours as Bacon proposed and undertook would be manifestly 
impracticable, yet, with the aid of such an organisation as that 
of the Rosicrucian Fraternity, the thing could be done, for this 
society, whether in its principles, its objects, its proceedings, or 
in the very obscurity and mystery which surrounds it, is, of all 
others, the one best calculated to promote Bacon's aims, its very 
constitution seeming to be the result of his own scheme and 
method. 

So much interest has lately been roused on the subject of the 
Rosicrucians, that we shall curtail our own observations as much 
as possible, trusting that readers will procure the books which, 
in these later days, have made the study of this formerly 
obscure and difficult subject so pleasant and easy, i 

Is it still needful to say that the Rosicrucians were certainly 
not, as has been thought, atheists or infidels, alchemists, or 
sorcerers? So far as we could find, when investigating this sub- 
ject some years ago (and as seems to be fully confirmed by the 
recent researches of others), there is no real ground for believ- 
ing that the society was an ancient one, or that it existed before 
1575, or that it issued any publication in its own name before 
1580. All the legends concerning the supposititious monk 
Christian Rosenkreuz, and the still more shadowy stories which 
pretend that the Rosy Cross Brethren traced their origin to 
remote antiquity, and to the Indians or Egyptians, melt into thin 
air, and, like the baseless fabric of a vision, dissolve away, when 
we approach them with spectacles on nose and pen in hand. 

" A halo of poetic splendour surrounds the order of the Rosi- 
crucians; the magic lights of fancy play round their graceful 
day-dreams, while the mystery in which they shrouded them- 
selves lends additional attraction to their history. But their 
brilliancy was that of a meteor. It just flashed across the 

1 See especially Tlie Real Hiitory of the Rosicrucians, A. E. Waite, 1887. 
Redway (Kegan, Paul & Co.). Bacon and the Rosicntcians, 1889, and Francis 
Bacon, etc., 1890; both by W. F. C. Wigstoa {Kegan, Paul, Trubner <S> Co.). 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 199 

realms nf imagination and intellect, and vanished forever ; not, 
however, without" leaving behind some permanent and lovely 
traces of its hasty passage. . . . Poetry and romance are deeply 
indebted to the Rosicrucians for many a fascinating creation. 
The literature of every European country contains hundreds of 
pleasing fictions whose machinery has been borrowed from their 
system of philosophy, though thai itself has passed awai/."'^ 

As will be seen, there is strongreason to doubt whetherthe words 
which we have rendered in italics are correct. The philosophy, 
the work of the Rosy Cross Brethren, has never passed away; it 
is, we feel sure, still green and growing, and possessing all the 
earth. 

It is only just to readers to whom this subject is new, to say 
that there is still a wide divergence of opinion concerning the 
origin and true aims of the secret society of the Rosicrucians. 
Bailey gives the following account: 

" Their chief was a German gentleman, educated in a mon- 
astery, where, having learned the languages, he travelled to the 
Holy Land, anno 1378; and, being at Damascus, and falling sick, 
he had heard the conversation of some Arabs and other Oriental 
philosophers, by whom he is supposed to have been initiated 
into this mysterious art. At his return into Germany he formed 
a society, and communicated to them the secrets he had brought 
with him out of the East, and died in 1484. 

" They were a sect or cabal of hermetical philosophers, who 
bound themselves by a solemn secret, which they swore inviola- 
bly to observe, and obliged themselves, at their admission into 
the order, to a strict observance of certain established rules. 

" They pretended to know all sciences, and especially medi- 
cine, of which they published themselves the restorers; they 
also pretended to be masters of abundance of important secrets, 
and, among others, that of the philosopher's stone; all which, 
they affirmed, they had received by tradition from the ancient 
Egyptians, Chaldeans, the Magi, and Gymnosophists. 

" They pretended to protract the period of human life by 
means of certain nostrums, and even to restore youth. They 
pretended to know all things. They are also called the Invisi- 
ble Brothers, because they have made no appearance, but have 
kept themselves incog, for several years." 

As will be seen, we cannot agree with the opir>ions of Bailey and 
I Heckcthorn, Secret Societies of all Ages and Countries. 



200 FRANCIS BACON 

others, who have claimed for the society a very great antiquity, 
finding no evidence whatever that the hermetical philosophers 
last described, the supposed alchemists and sorcerers, were ever 
heard of until the end of the sixteenth century. That a secret 
religious society did exist for mutual protection amongst the 
Christians of the early church and all through the darkest ages 
until the stormy times of persecution at the Reformation and 
Counter-reformation, there can be no doubt. Probably the rude 
and imperfect organisation of the early religious society was 
taken as a basis on which to rear the complete and highly finished 
edifice as we find it in the time of James I. But, in honest 
truth, all statements regarding Rosicrucians as a society of men 
of letters existing before the year 1575 must be regarded as 
highly doubtful, and the stories of the Rosicrucians themselves, 
as fictions, or parabolical " feigned histories," devised in order 
to puzzle and astonish the uninitiated hearer. 

In the Royal Masonic Cyclopedia there is an article on the 
Rosicrucians which seems in no way to run counter to these 
opinions. The article begins with the statement that in times 
long ago there existed men of various races, religions, and climes, 
who bound themselves by solemn obligations of mutual succor, 
of impenetrable secresy, and of humility, to labour for the pres- 
ervation of human life by the exercise of the healing art. But 
no date is assigned for the first appearance of this society in any 
form, or under any name. And the title Rosicrucian was, we 
know, never given or adopted until after the publication of the 
Chymical Marriage of Christian Rosencreutz, in 1616. The 
writer in the cyclopedia seems to acknowledge that the truth 
about the origin of the Rosicrucian Fraternity is known, though 
known only to a few, and we have strong reasons for believing 
that, in Germany at least, a certain select number of the learned 
members of the " Catholic" (not the Papal) Church are fully 
aware of how, when, and where this society was formed, which, 
after awhile, assumed the name of Rosicrucian, but which the 
initiates in Germany call by its true name — " Baconian. " It is 
very difficult, in all Masonic writings, for the uninitiated to sift 

1 Bailey's Dictionary — Bosicrucians. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 201 

the true from the false; or, rather, fact from disguised histonj, 
prosaic statemeuts from figm-ative language, genuine informa- 
tion from garbled statements framed expressly to mislead. Yet, 
in spite of these things, which must never be lost sight of, the 
article in question gives such a good summary of some of the 
chief facts and theories about the Rosy Cross brethren, that, for 
the benefit of those who cannot easily procure the cyclopaedia, 
we transcribe some portions : 

" Men of the most opposite worldly creeds, of diverse habits, 
and even of apparently remote ideas, have ever joined togetber, 
consciously or unconsciously, to glorify tbe good, and despise, 
although with piti/, the evil that might be reconciled to the good. 
But in the centuries of unrest which accompanied the evolution 
of any kind of civilisation, either ancient or modern, how was 
this laudable principle to be maintained f i This was done by a 
body of the learned, existing in all ages under peculiar restric- 
tions, and at one time known as the Roslciaician Fraternity. 
The Fraternity of the Rosy Cross, unlike the lower orders of 
Freemasons, seldom had gatherings together. The brethren 
were isolated from each other, although aware of their mu- 
tual existence, and corresponding by secret and mysterious 
writings, and books, after the introduction of printing. They 
courted solitude and obscurity, and sought, in the contemplation 
of the divine qualities of the Creator, that beatitude which the 
rude outside world despised or feared. In this manner, how- 
ever, thev also became the discoverers and conservators of 
important physical secrets, which, by slow degrees, they gradu- 
ally communicated to the world, with which, in another sense, 
they had so little to do. It is not, at the same time, to be sup- 
posed that these occult philosophers either despised the pleasures 
or discouraged the pursuits of their active contemporaries; but, 
as we ever find some innermost sanctuary in each noble and 
sacred fane, so they retired to constitute a body apart, and 
more peculiarly devoted to those mystical studies for which the 
great mass of mankind were unfitted by taste or character. 
Mildness and beneficence marked such courteous intercourse as 
their studious habits permitted them to have with their fellow- 
men; and in times of danger, in centuries of great physical 
suffering, they emerged from their retreats with the benevolent 
object of vanquishing and alleviating the calamities of mankind. 
In a rude period of turmoil, of battle, and of political change, 

1 This it is seen, was the very question which Francis Bacon, at the ago of 
fifteen, proposed to himself. See Spodding's Life, i. 3 ; and aiUe, chap. iy. 



202 FRANCIS BACON 

they placidly pursued their way, the custodians of human learn- 
ing, and thus acquired the respect, and even the reverence, of 
their less cultivated contemporaries. . . . The very fact of their 
limited number led to their further elevation in the public 
esteem, and there grew up around them somewhat of 'the 
divinity that doth hedge a king.' . . . 

" It is easy at the present day to see that which is held up 
before every one in the broad light of a tolerant century; but it 
was not so in the days of the Rosicrucians and other fraternities. 
There was a dread, amongst the masses of society in bygone 
days, of the unseen — ^a dread, as recent events and phenomena 
show very clearly, not yet overcome in its entirety. Hence, 
students of nature and mind were forced into an obscurity not 
altogether unwelcome or irksome, but in this obscurity they paved 
the way for a vast revolution ir mental science. . . . The patient 
labours of Trittenheim produced the modern system of diplo- 
matic cipher-writing. Even the apparently aimless wanderings 
of the monks and friars were associated with practical life, and 
the numerous missals and books of prayer, carried from camp to 
camp, conveyed, to the initiated, secret messages and intelli- 
gence dangerous to be communicated in other ways. The sphere 
of human intelligence was thus enlarged, and the freedom of 
mankind from a pitiless priesthood, or j)erhaps, rather, a system 
of tyranny under which that priesthood equally suflered, was 
ensured. 

" It was a fact not even disputed by Roman Catholic writers 
of the most Papal ideas, that the evils of society, ecclesiastical 
and lay, were materially increased by the growing worldliness 
of each successive pontiff. Hence we may sec why the origin 
of Rosicrucianism was veiled by symbols, and even its founder, 
Andrea, was not the only philosophical romancer — Plato, 
Apuleius, Heliodorus, Lucian, and others had preceded him in 
this path. 

" It is worthy of remark that one particular century, and 
that in which the Rosicrucians first showed themselves, is dis- 
tinguished in history as the era in which most of these ettbrts at 
throwing off the trammels of the past occurred. Hence the 
o]iposition of the losing party, and their virulence against any- 
thing mysterious or unknown. They freely organised pseudo- 
Rosicrucian and Masonic societies in return, and these societies 
were instructed to irregularly entrap the weaker brethren of 
the True and Invisible Order, and then triumphantly betray 
anything they might be so inconsiderate as to communicate to 
the superiors of these transitory and unmeaning associations. 

" Modern times have eagerly accepted, in the full light of 



AND HIS SECBET SOCIETY. 203 

science, the precious iuheritance of knowledge bequeathed by 
the Rosicrucians, and that body has disappeared from the visible 
knowledge of mankind, and re-entered that invisible fraternity of 
■which mention teas made in the opening of this article. . . . It is 
not desirable, in a ivork of this kind, to make disclosures of an 
indiscreet nature. The Brethren of the Eosy Cross ivill never, 
and should not, at peril and under alarm, give up their secrets. 
This ancient body /ms apparently disappeared from the field of 
human activity, but its labours are being carried on ivith alacrity, 
and with a sure delight in an ultimate success." i 

Although, during our search for information, experience has 
made us increasingly cautious about believing anything which 
we read in printed books concerning the Rosicrucians or the 
Freemasons, still it seems almost impossible to discredit the 
statements which have just been quoted; at least it will be 
granted that the writer is intending to tell the truth. He seems 
also to speak with knowledge, if not with authority, and such a 
passage as has been last quoted must, we think, shake the opin- 
ion of those who would maintain that the Rosicrucians, if ever 
they really existed and worked for any good purpose, have cer- 
tainly disappeared, and that there is no such secret organisation 
at the present time. The facts of the case, so far as we have 
been able to trace them, are entirely in accordance with the 
assertion that the non-existence of the Rosicrucian Society is 
only apparent ; true, they work quietly and unrecognised, but 
their labours are unremitting, and the beneficial results patent 
in our very midst. 

A great light has been shed upon our subject by the publica- 
tion in 1887 of Mr. Waite's remarkable little book, which has, for 
the first time, laid before the public several tracts and manu- 
scripts whose existence, if known to previous investigators, had 
certainly been Ignored, including different copies and accounts 
of the " Universal Befor mat ion of the Whole Wide World " (the 
title of one of the chief Rosicrucian documents), as well as 
original editions of the " Chymical Marriage of Christian Bosy 



1 From the Royal Masonic Cyclopaedia, edited by Keuuctli R. H. Mackenzie, 
IX = , pub. Bro. John Hogg, 1877. 



204 FBANCIS BACON 

Cross, " ivhich are not in the Library Catalogue. 2 It is true, as 
Mr. Waite says, that he is thus enabled to offer for the first time 
in the literature of the subject the Bosicrucians represented by 
themselves.^ 

This invaluable book should be read in connection with another 
important volume which has since been published, and which 
follows the subject into recesses whither it is impossible now to 
attempt to penetrate. 3 Mr. Wigston enters boldly and learnedly 
upon the connection perceivable between Bacon's philosophy 
and Rosicrucianism, and the whole book goes to prove, on very 
substantial grounds, that Bacon was probably the founder and 
certainly the mainstay of the society. 

For those who have not the time or opportunity for much 
reading, it may be well again, briefly, to summarize the aims of 
the Rosicrucians, as shown by their professed publications, and 
the rules and system of work by which they hoped to secure 
those aims.4 We gather from the evidence collected that the 
objects of the fraternity were threefold : 

1. To purify religion and to stimulate reform in the church. 

2. To promote and advance learning and science. 

3. To mitigate the miseries of humanity, and to restore man to 
the original state of purity and happiness from which, by sin, he 
has fallen. 

On comparing the utterances of the supposed authors of the 
Rosicrucian manifestoes with Bacon's reiterated statements as 
to his own views and aspirations, we find them to be identical in 
thought and sentiment, sometimes identical in expression. It 
is only necessary to refer to the eloquent and beautiful chapter 
with which Spedding opens his Letters and Life of Bacon, and 

1 Note liow" often this is found to be the case where particulars throwing 
fresh light on Bacon or on matters connected with him are found in old books 
or libraries. 

2 See The Real History of the Rosicrucians, by A. S. Waite, London, Red- 
way, 1887. 

3 Bacon. Shakespeare, and the Rosicrucians, by W. F. C. Wigston, London, 
Redway, 1881). 

4 The following is chiefly extracted from an article in the Bacon Journal, 
January, 1889 (RcdwayJ, 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 205 

from which some portions have been already quoted, in order to 
perceive how striking is the general resemblance in aim, how 
early the aspirations of Bacon formed themselves into a project, 
and with what rapidity the project became a great fact. 

" Assuming, then, " concludes the biographer, "that a deep 
interest in these three causes — the cause of reformed religion, of 
his native country, and of the human race through all their gener- 
ations — was thus early implanted in that vigorous and virgin soil, 
we must leave it to struggle up as it may, according to the acci- 
dents of time and weather. ... Of Bacon's life I am persuaded 
that no man will ever form a correct idea, unless he bear in 
mind that from very early youth his heart was divided by these 
three objects, distinct, but not discordant." 

Bacon, as we have seen, was not fifteen years oZcZ when he con- 
ceived the thought of founding a new system for the advance- 
ment of knowledge, and for the benefit of humanity. The Ros- 
icrucian manifestoes inform us that the founder of the society, and 
the writer of one of the most important documents, The 
Chymical Marriage, was a boy of fifteen. 

Mr. Waite observes, naturally enough, that the knowledge 
evinced by the writer of the paper in question, of the practices 
and purposes of alchemy, must be impossible to the most pre- 
cocious boy. But in mind Francis Bacon never was a boy. 
Some men, he said, were always boys, their minds never grew 
with their bodies, but he reflected, evidently thinking of him- 
self in relation to others, that " All is not in yeares, someivhat 
also is in houres tvell spent. " i Never had he been " idle truant, 
omitting the sweet benefit of time, " but rather had, like Proteus, 
"/or thafs his name,'^ 

"Made use and fair advantage of his days, 
His years but young, but his experience old; 
His head unmellowed, but his judgment ripe ! "2 

Wonderful as it is, improbable as it would appear, did we not 
know it to be the case, the fact remains, that at the age of flf- 

1 Promus. 

2 Two Gentlemen of Verona, ii. 4. 



206 FRANCIS BACON 

teen Francis Bacon liad run through the whole round of the 
arts and sciences at Cambridge, had outstripped his tutors, and 
had left Cambridge in disappointment and disgust, finding 
nothing more to learn there. He did not wait to pass a degree, 
but, practically, it was acknowledged that he had more than 
deserved it, for the degree of Master of Arts was conferred upon 
him some time afterward. 

Plow he spent the next year is not recorded by his biographer, 
but another E. C. document, the Fama Fraternitatis, throws a 
side-light upon the matter. In this paper, full as all these 
Rosicrucian manifestoes are of Bacon's ideas and peculiarities 
of expression, we read that " the high and noble spirit of one 
of the fraternity was stirred up to enter into the scheme for a 
general reformation, and to travel away to the wise men of 
Arabia." This we interpret to mean that, at this time, the 
young philosopher was entering his studies of Rhazis, Avenzoar, 
Averroes, Avicenna, and other Arabic physicians and 
" Hermetic " writers, from whom we find him quoting in his 
acknowledged, as well as in his unacknowledged, writings. 

At this time, the Fama informs us, this young member was 
sixteen years old, and for one year he had pursued his course 
alone. 

What is this likely to mean but that, having left college, he 
was pursuing his advanced studies by himself? It seems almost 
a certainty that at this period he was endeavouring, as so many 
other ardent minds have done, to get at a knowledge of the first 
causes of things. How could he better attempt to achieve this 
than by going back to the most ancient philosophies in order to 
trace the history of learning and thought from the earliest 
recorded period to his own times ? 

We shall presently have occasion to show the immense 
influence which the study of the occult philosophies of India, 
Persia, Arabia, and Egypt had upon the mind and writings of 
Francis Bacon, and how he drew from them the most elementary 
and universal symbols and emblems which are the foundations 
of Freemason language and hieroglyphics. But there is another 
particular which especially links Bacon with the whole system 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 207 

of Rosicruciauism, and this is that very matter of making 
collections or dictionaries which we spoke of in the last chapter. 
Now, this was not only one of the ostensible objects of the 
fraternity, but also the ostensible object of Francis Bacon. 
He claims the idea as his own, and declares that neither Aristotle 
nor Theophrastus, Dioscorides or Pliny, and much less any of 
the modern writers, have hitherto proposed such a thing to 
themselves. Spedding says Bacon would have found that such 
a dictionary or index of nature as he contemplated in the 
Novum Organum must be nearly as voluminous as nature her- 
self, and he gives the impression that such a dictionary was not 
attempted by Bacon. Here, as will be seen, we differ from this 
admirable biographer, and believe that Bacon did organise, 
and himself commence, such a system of note-taking, alphabet- 
ising, collating, " transporiiug, " etc., as by the help of "his 
twenty young gentlemen, " his able pens, devoted friends in every 
corner of the civilised world, and especially from the Illuminati, 
Rosy Cross brethren, and skilled Freemasons, to produce, within a 
few years, that truly cyclopedian mass of books of reference, 
which later writers have merely digested or added to. 

Bacon claims as his own the method hy tvhich this great de- 
ficiency is to be supplied. 

Behold, then, the author of the Fama Fraternitatis making a 
precisely similar claim : 

" After this manner began the Fraternity of the Rosie Cross — 
first by four persons only, and by them was made the Magical 
Lannage and Writing ivith a large Dictionary. " 

May not the sentence just quoted help somewhat to account 
for the extraordinary likeness, not only in ideas, but in words, 
of books, scientific and historical, which appeared before the 
publication of the great collections? Is it possible that copies 
or transcripts may have been made from Bacon's great manu- 
script dictionaries by those who would, with his ever-ready help, 
proceed to " make" or " produce" a book? Were such budding 
authors (Rosicrucians) allowed to come under his roof to write 
their bookS; and use his library and his brains? — questions at 
present unanswerable, but to be answered. Visions of Ben 



208 FHANCIS BACON 

Jonson writing his " Apology for Bartholomew Fair at the house 
of my Lord St. Albans;" of Bacon visiting Raleigh in prison; 
of the youug Hobbes pacing the alleys at Gorhambury with the 
Sage of Verulam — these and many other suggestive images 
rise and dissolve before the eyes of one who has tried to live in 
imagination the life of Francis Bacon, and to realize the way in 
which his faithful followers endeavoured to fulfil his wishes. 

Dictionary is a dry, prosaic word to modern ears ; the very 
idea of having to use one damps enthusiasm, and drops us 
"when several yards above the earth" into the study or the 
class-room. But 

" It so falls out 
That what we have, we prize not to the worth 
Whiles we enjoy it; but being lack'd and lost, 
Why, then, we rack the value."! 

Now think, if we had no dictionaries, how we should lacJc 
them, and having made even one poor little note-book on any 
subject which closely concerns us, how we prize it, and rack its 
value! So did Bacon. The making of dictionaries was to him 
a sacred duty, one of the first and most needful steps toward 
the accomplishment of his great ends. 

" I want this primary history to be compiled with a religious 
care, as if every particular zvere stated on oath; seeing that is the 
book of GoiVs tvorks, and (so far as the majesty of the heavenly 
may be compared with the humbleness of earthly things) a kind 
of second Scripture. " 

He sees that such a vast and difficult work is only to be ac- 
complished by means of co-operation, and by co-operation on a 
methodical plan. These convictions are most clearly seen in 
Bacon's most Rosicrucian works, the New Atlantis, Parasceve, 
Natural and Experimental History, and other "fragmentary" 
pieces. " If," he says, " all the wits of all ages, which hitherto 
have been, or hereafter shall be, were clubbed together ; if all 
mankind had given, or should hereafter give, their minds wholly 
to philosophy, and if the whole world were, or should be, com- 
posed of nothing but academies, colleges, and schools of learned 

1 M. Ado, iv. X. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 209 

men; yet, without such a natural and experimental history as 
we shall now prescribe, we deny that there could be, or can be, 
any progress in philosophy and other sciences worthy of man- 
kind. " 

The author of Fama reflects in precisely the same fashion, 
writing the thought of the sacred nature of such a worli, and 
the thought that it is a kind of second Scripture, with that 
other most important reflection as to the necessity for unity, 
and a combination of wits, if real progress is to be made and a 
book of nature or a perfect method of all arts be achieved. 

" Seeing the only wise and merciful God in these latter days 
hath poured so richly His mercy and goodness to mankind, 
whereby we do attain more and more to the knowledge of His 
Sou Jesus Christ, and of nature, ... He hath also made manifest 
unto us many wonderful and never-heretofore-seen works and 
creatures of nature; . . so that finally man might thereby 
understand his own nobleness and worth, and why he is called 
Microcosmus, and how far his knowledge extendeth in nature. 

" Although the rude world herewith will be but little pleased, 
but rather smile and scoif thereat; also the pride and covet- 
ousness of the learned is so great, it ivill not suffer them to agree 
together; but were they united, they might, out of all those things 
tvhich in this our age God doth so richly bestow upon us, collect 
Librum. Naturae, or a perfect method of all arts.'''' i 

" The College of the Six Days," which Bacon described, is, 
we know, the College of the Rosicrucians, who accept the New 
Atlantis, in its old form, as a Rosicrucian document, and 
allow it to be circulated under a changed title. 

The hopelessness and impossibility of attempting to perform 
single-handed all that his enthusiasm for humanity prompted, 
and that his prophetic soul foresaw for distant ages, often 
oppressed his mind, and as often he summoned his energies, his 
philosophy, and his faith in God, to comfort and encourage him 
to the work. This is all very distinctly traceable in the Promus 
notes, which are so frequently quoted in the Shakespeare plays. 
Amongst the early entries, in the sprawling Anglo-Saxon hand- 
writing of his youth, he records his intention to use *' Ingenuous 
honesty, and yet with opposition and strength. Good means 

1 Fama Fraternitatis — Real History of the Rosicrucians; A. S. "Waite. 
14 



210 FRANCIS BACON 

against badd, liornes to crosses. "i " The ungodly," he next 
retlects, "walk around on every side." "I was silent from 
good words, and my grief was renewed," but " I believed and 
therefore have I spoken ; " and he is resolute iu trying to do what 
he feels to be his duty, for " The memory of the just lives with 
praise, but the name of the wicked shall rot. " Here we find 
him registering his resolves to do good to others, regardless of 
private advantage or profit. This, it will be seen, is one of the 
cardinal rules of the Rosy Cross Brethren. They were " to cure 
the sick gratis, " to seek for no pecuniary profit or reward for the 
works which they produced for the benefit of others. " Buy the 
truth," say Bacon's notes, " and sell it not." " He who hast- 
eth to be rich shall not be innocent, " but " Give not that which 
is holy unto dogs. " He foresaw, or had already experienced in 
his own short life, the manner in which the " dogs " or cynics of 
public opinion and of common ignorance would quarrel over 
and tear to pieces every scrap of new knowledge which he pre- 
sented to them. " The devil," he says farther on, " hath cast 
a bone to set strife." But this should not hinder him. "We 
ought to obey God rather than man," "and the firo shall try 
every man's work, of what sort it is; " " for we can do nothing 
against the truth, but much for the truth. " And then h6 seems 
to prepare his mind to suffer on account of the efforts which he 
was making on mankiud's behalf He remembers that our 
Blessed Lord Himself suffered iu the same way, and writes a 
memorandum from this verse: " Many good works have I showed 
you of iny Father; for which of those works do ye stone me? " 
"Whatever might be the judgment upon him and his works, he 
would rest in the assurance of St. Paul: " I have fought a good 
fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith." We 
hardly think that he stopped here in the quotation. Although 
he does not write down the other half of the passage, his ardent 
soul treasured, and his works reflect in a thousand different ways 
the inspiring and triumphant hope of recognition in that future 
life to which he was always looking: " Henceforward there is 

1 Soo in the chapter on Pajier Marks tho Symbols of Horns and Crosses, to 
■which, perhaps, the entry alludes. 



AKD Hid SECRET SOCIETY. 211 

laid up for me a crown of righteousness, wliicli tlie Lord, tlie 
rigliteous Judge, shall give me at that day, and not to me only, 
but to all that love His appearing. '■ i 

But meanwhile, how to do all that he felt and knew to be 
necessary, and yet which could only be done by himself, we see 
him again in the notes reflecting that victory can be gained by 
means of members; that " things united are more powerful or bet- 
ter than things not united; ".that " two eyes are better than one; " 
" So many heades so many wits; " " Friends have all things in 
common; " " Many things taken together are helpful, which taken 
singly are of no use; " " One must take men as they are, and 
times as they are; " but, on the whole, he seems to think that 
most men are serviceable for something, that every properly 
instructed tongue may be made to bear witness, and that it must 
be one part of his work to draw together so great a cloud of wit- 
nesses as may perform the part of a chorus, endorsing, echoing, 
or capping the doctrines of the new philosophy as tliey were 
uttered, and giving a support, as of public opinion, both at home 
and abroad. 

We now know that many of Bacon's works were transmitted 
" beyond the seas," to France, Spain, Italy, Germany,and Holland, 
■where they were translated and surreptitiously published, 
usually under other names than his own. There are, when we 
come to collect them, many indications in the Promiis of a secret 
to be kept, and of a system planned for the keeping of it. 

" The glory of God,'" we read, is " to conceal a thing ^^ — and 
there are many " secrets of God.'' " Woorkeas Godtvoor'kes " — 
quietly, persistently, secretly — unheeded, except by those who 
read in His infinite book of secresy. '' Pliitoe's helmet " is said to 
have produced " invisibility." '■^ The gods have tvoollen feet'' ^ 
i. e., steal on us unawares. " Triceps Mercurius, great rumjing,'" 
alludes, perhaps, to the little anonymous book of cipher called 
" Mercury, the Secret and Swift Messenger,'" which reproduces so 
accurately (and without acknowledging him) Bacon's biliteral 
cipher, and many other particulars told precisely after his 
manner, that we believe it to be the brief summary by himself 

I'JTim. iv. r, 8. 



212 FRANCIS BACON 

of some much larger works. But lie also notes that " a Mercury 
cannot be made of every word," that is, a dull fellow will never 
be made a clever one; nevertheless "a true servant may be 
made of an unlikely piece of wood," i and he had a faculty for 
attaching people to him and for bringing out all that was best 
and most serviceable in their natures. 

The next note says that " Princes have a cypher^ Was he 
thinking that he, the prince of writers, would use one for his 
royal purposes? A few lines earlier is this entry: 

" lisdein e' Uteris efficitur traga'dia et comedia" 
(Tragedies and comedies arc made of one alplaihet), 

which we now k:iow refers to the cipher narrative for which the 
pass-word was the alphabet, and which is found running through 
the Shakespeare tragedies and comedies. 2 

Such entries as these, suggestive of some mystery, are inter- 
esting when taken in connection with other evidence derivable 
from Bacon's manuscript books, where the jottings have been 
more methodised or reduced from other notes. In the Com- 
mentaries or Transportata, which can be seen in MS. at the 
British Museum, we find him maturing his plans for depreciating 
" the philosophy of the Grecians, with some better respect to ye 
Ji^giptians, Persians, and Chaldees, and the utmost antiquity, 
and the mysteries of the poets. " " To consyder what opynions 
are fltt to nourish Tanquam AnscB, so as to graft the new upon 
the old, ut religiones solent, " of the " ordinary cours of incompe- 

1 See letter to Lord Pickering, 1594. 

2 " I have sent you some copies of the Advancement, which you desired ; and a 
little work of my recreation, which you desired uot. My Iiislaiiratlon 1 reserve 
for our conference — it sleeps not. Tlwse works of ike alphabet are, in my 
opinion, of less use to you where you are now, than at Paris, aud, therefore, I 
conceived that you had sent me a kind of tacit couutermand of your former 
request. But in regard that some friends of yours have still iusistcd here, I 
send them to you ; aud for my part I value your owu reading umre than your 
publishing them to others. Thus, in extreme haste, I have scribbled to you I 
know not what. " — (Letter from Bacon to Sir Tohie Matt/iew, IGOJ.) 

"What these works of 'the alphabet may have been, I cannot guess; unless 
they related to Bacon's cipher," etc. — (Sjjedd'uufs comment on the above ivords, 
i. 659.) 

See also the Advancement of Learning, ii. : Spedding, iii. 399, -where Bacon 
quotes Aristotle to show that words are the images of cogitations, aud letters 
are the images of words. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 213 

tency of reason for natural philosophy and invention of woorks. " 
" Also of means to procure ' histories' of all things natural and 
mechanical, hsts of errors, observations, axioms, &c." Then 
follow entries from which we abridge : 

" Layeiug for a place to command wytts and pennes, West- 
minster, Eton, Wynchester; spec(ially) Trinity Coll., Cam.j St. 
John's, Cam.; Mandlia Coll., Oxford. 

" Qu. Of young schollars in ye universities. It must be the 
post nati. Giving pensions to four, to compile the two histories, 
ut supra. Foundac : Of a college for inventors, Library, lugi- 
nary. 

" Qu. Of the order and discipline, the rules and prgescripts of 
their studyes and inquyries, allowauces for travailing, intelli- 
gence, and correspondence with ye universities abroad. 

" Qu. Of the maner and prescripts touching secresy, tradi- 
tions, and publication. " 

Here we have a complete sketch of the elaborate design which 
was to be worked out; and we wonder — yes, we wonder, with 
an astonishment which increases as we approach the matter — 
how these remarkable jottings, so pregnant with suggestion, 
speaking to us in every line of a vast and deeply-laid scheme, 
should have been so lightly (or can it be so purposely) passed 
over in every hfe or biography of Bacon. Here he was laying 
his plans to " command wits and pens " in all the great public 
schools, and especially in the principal colleges of the univer- 
sities. He was endeavouring to secure the services of the cleverest 
scholars to assist him in working out a scheme of his own. They 
were especially to be young scholars, who should have imbibed, 
or who were capable of imbibing, the advanced ideas produced by 
the " new birth of time, " which he had himself inaugurated. To 
work out new ideas, one must have fresh and supple material; and 
minds belonging to bodies which have existed for nearly half a 
century are rarely either supple or easily receptive of new ideas. 
Bacon, therefore, did not choose, for the main stuff and fibre of 
his great reforming society, men of his own age (he was now 
forty-seven); he wisely sought out the brightest and freshest of 
the sons of the morning, the cream of youthful talent, "wher- 
ever it was to be discovered. 

Would it not be a pursuit as exciting as profitable to hunt 



214 FRANCIS BACON 

out aud track the footsteps of those choice young wits and pens 
of the now school, of the Tenqjoris Partus Masculus, and Partis 
Sccundo DeUneatio, of which Bacon thought and wrote so much, 
and to see what various aids these " young schollars " were able 
to afford for his great work? One line of work is clearly indi- 
cated: they 'WQve, under his own instructions, to collect materials 
for compiling " histories" on natural philosophy and on inven- 
tions in the mechanical arts— as we should now say, the applied 
sciences. One work is specified, as to its contents and nature. 
It is to be a "history of marvailes" with "all the popular 
errors detected." Such a book was published shortly after 
Bacon's death by a young Oxford man, of whom we shall by- 
and-by have occasion to speak. Another history is of " Mech- 
anique;"it is to be compiled with care aud diligence, and a 
school of science is to be established for the special study of the 
art of invention. " A college, furnished with all necessary 
scientific apparatus, workshops and materials for experiments." 
Not only so, but Bacon proposes to give pensions to four of his 
young men, in order that they might freely devote themselves 
to scientific or philosophic research. Some were also to have 
^^ allowances for travelling,^' which proves that their field of 
research and for the gleaning of materials was not to be confined 
only to their own country, but " inquiries and correspondence with 
ye universities abroad" were to form an important element in 
the scheme. 

The works which were the product of this wise and liberal 
scheme of Bacon's will not be difficult of identification. They 
belong to the class of which the author said that they did not 
pieteud to originality, but that they were flowers culled from 
every man's garden and tied together by a thread of his own. 

It is clear that the wits and pens of the " young schollars" 
(who, we learn from the Rosicrucian documents, were to be 
sixty-three in number) were chartered and secured under the 
seal of secresy. The last of the manifestoes in Mr. Waite's 
book contains this passage, in which few who have read much 
of Bacon will fail to recognise his sentiments, his intentions — 
nay, his very words: 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 215 

" I 'was twenty tvhen this book tvas finished; but methinks I 
have outlived myself; I begin to be weary of the sun.i ... I 
have shaken hands with delight, and know all is vanity, and I 
think no man can live well once but he that could live twice. 
For my part I would not live over my hours past, or begin again 
the minutes of my days; '- not because I have lived well, but for 
fear that I should live them worse. At my death I mean to 
make a total adieu of the world, not caring for the burthen of 
a tombstone and epitaph, but in the universal Register of God 
I fix ray contemphitions on Heaven. 1 writ the Rosicruciau 
Infallible Axiomata iu four books, and study, not for my own 
sake only, but for theirs that study not for themselves. In the 
law I began to be a perfect clerk; I writ the Idea of the Law, 
etc., for the benefit of my friends, and practice in King's Bench. 3 
I envv no man that knows more than myself, but pity them that 
know' less. . . . Now, in the midst of all my endeavours there 
is but one thought that dejects me, that my acquired parts must 
perish with myself, nor can be legacied amongst my dearly be- 
loved and honoured friends. " 

This is the very sentiment which caused Bacon to contrive 
some method of handing down, by means of those very friends, 
the Lamp of Tradition, which he could not legacy, but which, 
wherever forthcoming and by whomsoever rubbed, brings up on 
the spot the spirit of the Lamp, Francis Bacon himself. 

Let us glance for a few minutes at " the order and discipline, 
the rules and prescripts, " which were instituted for the use of 
the Rosicrucian Fraternity, or may we not safely say, for the use 
of Bacon's " young schollars " and friends? The original rules 
were fifty-two in number, but only the leading features of them 
can be noted, numbers being placed against them for the sake 
of brevity in reference : 

1. The society was to consist of sixty-three members, of 
various grades of initiation, apprentices, brethren, and an 
*' imperator." 

2. These were all sworn to secresy for a period of one hundred 
years. 

1 "I 'gin to be aweary of the siui."—Macb. v. 5. "Cassius is aweary of the 
world."— «7it^- Cas. iv. 3. 

2 Compare Bacon's posthumous or second Essay Of Death. 

3 See Bacon's Tracts of the Law, Spedding, Works, vii. 



216 • FRANCIS BACON 

3. They were to have secret nameS; but to pass in public by 
their own names. 

4. To wear the dress of the country in which they resided. 

5. To profess ignorance, if interrogated, on all subjects con- 
nected with the society, except the Art of Healing. 

6. To cure the sick gratis (sickness and healing seem to have 
been terms used, metaphorically, for ignorance, and instruction 
or knowledge). 

7. In all ways and places to oppose the aggressions and un- 
mask the impositions of the Romish church — the Papacy. 

8. To aid in the dissemination of truth and knowledge 
throughout all countries. 

9. Writings, if carried about, were to be written in ambiguous 
language, or in " secret writing." (Query, in cipher?) 

10. Rnsicrucian works were, as a rule, not to be published 
under the real name of their author. Pseudonyms, mottoes, or 
initials {not the authofs own) were -to be adopted. 

11. These feigned names and signatures were to be frequently 
changed. The " imperator " to change his name not less 
frequently than once in ten years. 

12. The places of publication for the " secret writings " to be 
also periodically changed. 

13. Each ^neraber was to have at least one " apprentice " to 
succeed him and to take over his work. (By which means the 
secret writings could be passed down from one hand to another 
until the time was ripe for their disclosure.) 

14. The Brethren must suffer any punishment, even to death 
itself, sooner than disclose the secrets specially confided to them. 

15. They must apply themselves to making friends with the 
powerful and the learned of all countries. 

16. They must strive to become rich, not for the sake of money 
itself, for they must spend it broadcast for the good of others, 
but for the sake of the advantages afforded by wealth and posi- 
tion for pushing forward the beneficent objects of the society. i 

1 The working of this riilo is observable throughout the whole of Bacon's life 
and writings. It accounts for the (lianiotricall}' ojjposite accusations which have 
been levelled against him and \\hi(h liis enemies have dcliirlited to magnifv, of 
meanness and laviskness. "Riches," he says, " arc for spending, and spending 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 217 

17. They were to promote the.building of " fair houses " for 
the advancement of learning, and for the relief of sickness, dis- 
tress, age, or poverty. 

18. When a Rosicrucian died he was to be quietly and unos- 
tentatiously buried. His grave was either to be left without a 
tombstone, or, if his friends chose to erect a monument in his 
honour, the inscription upon it ivas to he ambiguous. 

It is needless to show what an engine such a society would be, 
driven by such a motive power as Bacon, one original mind, 
endowed in almost equally balanced proportions with every in- 
tellectual faculty; equally capable of the quick perception of 
ideas, as of their prompt acquisition and application to useful 
purposes. With all this. Bacon possessed the still rarer faculty 
of being able to communicate his ideas, to impress them upon 
the dull, dead minds of the many, as well as upon the more 
receptive apprehensions of the few. Where opposition to direct 
teaching or advance in any kind of knowledge existed, there his 
versatile genius, the " nimbleness of mind," of which he was 
conscious, enabled him to devise methods " to let new light in 
upon the understanding, and conquer prejudice without raising 
contests, animosities, opposition or disturbance, " i to speak 
truth with a laughing face. 2 

We are disposed to shrink from the facts which stare us in the 
face, and to say : Is it possible that one man can have dared 
and accomplished so much? Is it possible that anyone brain 
could have been capable enough, any life long enough, to enable 
one man to have not only planned, but carried through, the 



for honour and good actions. ... I cannot call riches better than the baggage of 
virtue; the Koman word is better, ' impedimenta,' for as the baggage Ts to an 
arm_v, so is riches to yirtue; it cannot be spared nor left behind, but it hindereth 
the march. . . . Offjreat riches iliere is no real use except it he in l/ie distribution; 
the rest is but conceit." "Moneij is like mucl:, not good except it he spread." In 
the same spirit, and with the same metaphor, Cori/Aaiuis\s said to have regarded 
riches. " (3ur spoils he kicked at, and looked upon things precious as they 
were the common vinck o' tlie world." — Cor. ii. 3. Compare Essays Of Expense 
and 0/ Riches with the speeches of the fallen Wolsey, Henry VIII. iii. 2, 106, etc., 
and with Timon of Athens, i. ~', 90, etc., ii. 1, etc. 

1 Pref to "Wisdom of the Ancients. 

aPromus, 10 ;i. 



218 FRANCIS BACON 

amount of works of iufinitely varied kinds in wliicli we find 
Bacon engaged? Is it possible that he could have found time 
to read, cogitate, write, and publisli this enormous quantity of 
valuable works, each pre-eminent in its own way; to have filled 
some of them with elaborate ciphers, and to have made many of 
them means of conveying information secret as well as ostensi- 
ble? With all this can we conceive him also experimenting to 
the extent which we know he did in every branch of natural 
philosophy, breaking a gap into every fresh matter, noting de- 
ficiencies in old studies, and setting to work to supply them; in 
each case originating and inaugurating new ideas — a very dif- 
ferent affair from merely imitating, or following where another 
has gone before ? 

In truth, a hasty judgment would pronounce these things to 
be impossible and contrary to common sense. But this merely 
means unparalleled in the speaker's experience. No other man 
has ever been known to perform such work as we claim for 
Francis Bacon. 

But Bacon was no ordinary man. He was an intellectual 
giant, born into a world which seemed to him to be chiei3y peo- 
pled with pigmies; the spiritual and intellectual life of the 
world stunted, deformed, diseased, and sick unto death through 
ignorance and the sins which ignorance nourishes and strength- 
ens. With his herculean powers and eagle-sighted faculties of 
imagination, keen to perceive, subtle to devise, prompt to act, 
skilful in practical details, what might he not do with four 
"pensioned" able pens continually at his "command," and 
sixty-three of the choicest scholars of the universities to assist 
in the more mechanical parts of the work; to transcribe, collate, 
and reduce into orderly form the " collections," historical, scien- 
tific, ethical, or phraseological, which, during his life, were to 
stand for him and for them in the place of modern books of 
reference, and which, after his death, were to be published as 
" histories," " dictionaries," " collections, "etc., under the names 
of those who were the ostensible editors or " producers" of 
works which they would liave been incapable of originating? 

Whilst these men were thus writing under his eye, or accord- 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 219 

ing to his " prescripts," Bacon himself, in the quiet of his library 
or tower, sometimes in his " full poor cell" in Gray's Inn, was 
cogitating, note-taking, dreaming, experimenting, composing, 
or " inventing." 

" Out of 's self-drawing web lie gives us note; 

The force of his own merit makes his way: 

A gift that Heaven gives for him." i 

The credibility of such assumptions is increased when wo 
endeavour to realise how things would stand with ourselves if, 
from our earliest childhood, everything that we had lisped had 
been noticeable; if our earliest writings had been worthy of 
preservation; if every letter, every word we wrote had been 
religiously stored, revised, and by and by published. " I add, 
but I never alter; " that seems to have been part of Bacon's 
method, and thus edition after edition, each time improved 
and augmented, was produced, the same material being utilised 
in various ways over and over again. 

Bacon was never idle. Recreation with him was not idleness, 
but merely a change of occupation. He never plodded upon 
books, but read, taking notes, or perhaps marking extracts for 
others to write out. Thus he wasted no moment of time, nor 
allowed one drop of his freshly distilled knowledge to evaporate 
or be lost, but carefully treasured and stored it up in " vases " 
or note-books, where he could at any moment draw it out 
afresh. 

There is good reason for thinking that he largely encouraged 
the use of stenography or shorthand writing ; that his friends 
sat round him as the disciples of the ancient philosophers sat 
round their masters, listening to his words, and often writing 
down his utterances, or his entire discourses. The facility with 
which he expressed himself, the grace and sweetness of his 
language, and the marvellous fulness of his conversation were 
perpetual themes of admiration and wonder. "His meals," 
says Dr. Rawley, " were refections of the ear as well as of the 
stomach, like the Nodes AtticcB, or ConviviaDeipus-Sophistarum, 
wherein a man might be refreshed in his mind and understand- 

1 Henry VIII. i. I. 



220 FRANCIS BACON 

ing, no less than in his body. And I have known some, of no 
mean parts, that have professed to make use of their note-books 
when they have risen from table. " i 

Both the matter and the manner of John Selden's " Table 
Talk " assure us that this and several other similar books are 
merely transcripts of such hasty notes of words which dropped 
from Bacon's lips, reproduced as accurately as possible, and 
treasured up for the benefit of posterity by his loving friends. 

To look a little into the rules of the Rosicross brethren. Bacon's 
" Sons of Science, " and of whom we believe him to have been 
the " Imperator " or supreme head : 

Bules 1, 13 and 15 help us to grasp the possibiUty of Bacon's 
having produced the enormous quantity of books which will 
surely, in the future ages, be claimed for him, and which can ba 
proved, by all that has hitherto passed as conclusive evidence 
with regard to other works, to be the work of one author. 

Bules 2, 10, 11, 12 and 11 suffice to answer the oft-repeated 
query: Why did not Bacon acknowledge his own works? or why 
did not his friends vindicate his claim to them ? He, as well as his 
friends, had sworn solemnly to keep the secrets of the society 
for a period of one hundred years. 

Bules 3, 10 and 11 enable us to reconcile many difficulties as 
to the authorship of certain works. For instance, in the anthol- 
ogy entitled "England's Helicon," there are poems which 
have, at different times, borne two, three or even four different 
signatures. If the Rosicrucian publications were not, as a rule, to 
bear the name of the author, and if the feigned names of the 
brethren were to be frequently changed, confusion and mys- 
tification as to the true author would inevitably be produced. 
It would be impossible to draw any irrefutable conclusions as to 
the date and sometimes as to the aim of the works in question, 
and this, doubtless, was precisely what the secret society 
desired. 

1 It seems possible that traditions of such delightful meals as Dr. Rawley 
here records, aad in which Bacon delighted "to draw a man on, and allure him 
to apeak iipon sack a sHbjert ai loherein he iv m pecallarli/ skilful" may have taken 
place at the " Mermaid," whare the chief wits of the day are said to have 
enjoyed their '• wit combats." , 



AND HIS SECBET SOCIETY. 221 

Rules 8 and 13, especially when taken together with the pre- 
ceding, throw great light on the publication of such works as 
" Montaigne's Essays " in France, of its supposed translation, in 
1603, from French into pure Baconian English, by the Italian 
Florio, tutor to the English royal family, and of the large addi- 
tions and alterations, such as none bat the author could have 
presumed to make, in the later edition published by Cotton in 
1685-6. 

Rule 8 seems also to explain the fact of many of Bacon's most 
intimate friends having passed so much of their time abroad, in 
days when to travel was a distinction, but not an every-day occur- 
rence, and when, indeed, it required the royal sanction to leave 
the country. So Anthony Bacon lived for many years in Italy 
and the south of France, very little being absolutely known 
about his proceedings. Mr. Doyly, Bacon's first recorded cor- 
respondent, was at Paris when he received a mysterious letter 
explaining something in an ambiguous manner. Bacon's answer 
is equally misty: " he studiously avoids particulars, and means 
to be intelligible only to the person he is addressing, "i 

This Mr. Doyly had travelled with Anthony Bacon, and after 
residing in Paris, went to Flanders, where " he was of long time 
dependent on Mr. Norris. " What his business was is unknown; 
he returned to England in 1583. The letter from Mr. Doyly to 
Francis Bacon shows great intimacy: it begins, '' To my verye 
deare friend, Mr. Doylie. " 

Then there was Anthony Bacon's very intimate friend Nicho- 
las Faunt, at one time Walsingham's secretary, a gentleman at- 
tached to the Puritan party. From 1580 to 1582 we find him trav- 
eUng, with no ostensible object, through France and Germany, 
spending seven months between Geneva and the north of Italy, 
back to Paris, and home to London in 1582. He is described as 
an " able intelligencer," and is just such a man as we should 
expect to find Bacon making good use of. 

The young Earl of Rutland receives in 1595 a licence to pass 
over the seas, and (although they pass for awhile as the writing 
of Essex) it is Bacon who writes for him those " Letters of 

1 Spedding, Letters and Life, ii. 9. 



222 FMANCIS BACON 

Advice " which were published auonymously nearly fifty years 
later. 

Then we find another of his most intimate friends, Tobie Mat- 
thew, abroad, wandering, and sometimes, perhaps, rather myste- 
riously occupied. Although, to Bacon's deep regret, he joined the 
Roman branch of the Church, the correspondence and intimacy 
between the two never ceases, and we think that it will transpire 
that Sir Tobie, having become a priest in the Jesuit college at 
Douai, continued to serve Bacon in many ways by aiding in the 
translation and dissemination of his works, and especially in the 
production of the Douai Bible. The proceedings and waitings 
of other travellers and writers, or supposed authors, of Bacon's 
time, should be examined and reviewed in this connection. They 
are too numerous to speak of here, but we would remind the 
reader of his life-long friends, the Sidneys, Herberts, Nevilles, 
Howards, Careys, Sandys, Cottons, of Lord Arundel, Sir Thos. 
Bodley, Camden, and the Shirleys; of John Selden, his trusted 
friend and one of his executors; Sir Henry Wotton, his cousin; 
of Sir Walter Raleigh, whom, during his imprisonment, he is 
known to have visited in the Tower, whilst he was engaged in 
writing The History of the World; of Ben Jonson, who, ac- 
cording to Drumniond of Hawthornden, wrote from under Bacon's 
roof; of Sir Kenelm Digby, Montaigne, Florio, Davies. and other 
foreigners, as well as Englishmen, whose names and works are 
found to be so curiously interwoven with the lives and writings 
of Anthony and Francis Bacon. 

By and by we shall have to return to the subject of Bacon's 
friends and collaborators, and to the light which is let in upon 
their agency through the large collection of Anthony Bacon's 
correspondence, preserved in the library at Lambeth Palace. 
To return to the Rosicrucian ordinances: 

Rule 5 shows that the incognito maintained by the brethren 
was to extend, not merely to their names and authorships, but 
also to their knowledge and menial acquirements. The very 
fact of their belonging to a secret society was to be concealed ; 
they were to pass through the world as ordinary members of 
society, wearing the dress of the country in which they lived, 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 223 

and doing nothing to draw upon tliem the special notice of 
others. TJteif tvcre even to conceal any special or superior 
knowledge which they might have acquired, i actually professing 
ignorance tvJien interrogated, the only science of which they 
were allowed to show any knowledge being " the science of 
heaUng." Perhaps this is to be taken partly in its literal 
sense, and the rule may have been made with the benevolent 
intention of encouraging the study of medicine and surgery, 
which Bacon found to be terribly deficient ; also, this permis- 
sion would enable the experts in the^e subjects to come to 
the rescue on emergency, and to help to alleviate the bodily 
sufferings of their fellow-creatures. Still, a comparison of the 
Rosicrucian works obliges us to see that it was to remedy 
the deformities of the age, to heal the sores and cankers of 
miserable souls, to minister to the mind diseased, that the Rosy 
Cross brethren were really labouring; and this fifth rule gives 
a good hint as to the reason why Bacon did not "profess to be a 
poet,^' why " Burton " should not profess to be a theologian, or 
Montaigne " xnofess to be a philosopher.''^ 

The thought arises: What could be the object of this rule? 
Even if it were desirable, for the safety of the author of danger- 
ous or advanced publications, that his name should be concealed, 
what reason could there be for obliging the man himself to feign 
ignorance of subjects which he had specially studied, and this, 
too, in days when the revival of learning was a subject of dis- 
cussion and pride, and when to be supposed learned was a 
feather in a man's cap ? 

There seems to be only one really satisfactory explanation of 
this and other rules, na:nely, that the so-called authors were not 
the true authors of the books which passed under their names; 
that at the best they were translators, revisors, or editors, often 
mere transcribers and media for publication. Under these cir- 
cumstances it would not only have been false, had they claimed 
the authorship of works which they did not write, but it would 
have been fatal and foolish in the extreme had they gone about 
professing to talk of matters which they did not understand. 

1 We wonder if this rule is still iu force. Experience persuades us that it is. 



224 FB AN CIS BACON 

Kosicruciaus were to heal the sick, gratis. This seems to mean 
that their work was, throughout, to be a labour of love. Not 
for the sake of profit or of fame did they labour, but simply for 
the love of God, and of man created in God's image. Truly 
we believe that for this end the brothers Anthony and Francis 
lived poor for many years, flinging into the common fund, for 
publishing, etc., every penny which they could spare, after 
defraying the most necessary expenses for themselves, and to 
keep up appearances. We equally believe that their work has 
never died out, but has been taken up in the same spirit by 
numberless individuals and societies — now in full activity, and 
recently mightily on the increase. 

Bulell would account for the extraordinary impetus given in 
Bacon's time to the building and endowing of libraries, schools, 
colleges, hospitals, almshouses, theatres, etc. The names of many 
such " fair houses, " munificently endowed, will rise to the minds of 
all who are well acquainted with London and the two great uni- 
versities. Let the reader inquire into the history of Gresham 
College, Sion College, and the splendid library attached to it; 
Dulwich College, with its school, almshouses, and library, origi- 
nally intended to benefit poor actors; the Bancroft Hospital and 
many other similar establishments; the library and other build- 
ings at Trinity College, Cambridge; the additions to the Bodleian 
Library, Oxford, the library at Lambeth Palace, and the great 
printing-houses established at both universities — he will find 
that he can never get away from Bacon and his friends. Either 
we find Bacon suggesting the need or encouraging the performers, 
or inspecting and approving the work, but himself, as a rule, 
unrecognised in public documents; so with the societies. Hispor- 
trait alone hangs in the great library of the Royal Society. His 
friends are all closely associated with the founding of the Arun- 
del Society, the Society of Antiquaries, the Camden Society, the 
Ray Society, and, we think, with the Colleges of Surgeons and 
Physicians; but, as usual, although the names appear, in con- 
nection with these and other institutions, of his intimate friends. 
Bacon, the great instigator and promoter or them all, remains in 
the background. It is sufficient to read of such institutions that 



AND ni3 SECRET SOCIETY. 225 

their origin is " veiled " or " obscure " for us to feel tolerably 
welt assured that behind the veil is Francis Bacon. 

In Rosicrucian books not included amongst the short pieces 
in MS. published by Mr. Waite, it is shown that one 
great work of the society was the publication and dissemination 
of Bibles. There are, says Bacon, two books of God, the Book 
of the Bible, expressinj His tvill, and the Book of Nature, setting 
forth His ivorks. Neither can be fully understood or interpreted 
without the other, and men should be made equally acquainted 
with either. The revised Bibles of 1591, 1611, and 1613 bear wit- 
ness to his personal efforts in this direction. The commentary 
published at Geneva, by "John Diodati, " tlie Messenger 
Given hy God (or the Messenger of God's Gift, which Bacon 
says was the gift of reason with speech), should be examined in 
connection with this part of the subject. It will surely transpire 
that Francis Bacon played no minor part in promoting the 
knowledge of God's first book, and that his faithful followers 
have nobly fulfilled their vows and duty of carrying on his great 
work. 

For the Second Book of God, it is easier at once to make plain 
the enormous services which he rendered. He founded the 
Roycd Society. In these words we sum up the fact that he 
planned and set going the vast machinery which has produced 
such wonderful results upon science, and upon almost every 
department of human knowledge. 

The history of the origin of the Royal Society, which, accord- 
ing to its chief chroniclers, is, like so many other matters con- 
nected with Bacon, '■^veiled in obscurity,'''' appears to be this: 
A few choice spii'its met first in Bacon's private room, then at 
various places in Oxford and Cambridge, until the friends formed 
themselves into a small philosophical society, under Dr. 
Wilkins, in Wadham College. Meetings were sometimes held in 
taverns. When too large for these, they adjourned to the 
parlour of Gresham College. Lord Arundel " offered the Royal 
Society an asylum in his own palace when the most fierce and 
merciless of the elements subverted her first abodes," all of 
which is printed with many italics and very large type in the 

1 B 



226 FRANCIS BACON 

dedication " to the illustrious Henry Howard, Earl of Norfolk," 
at the beginning of a curious little book " written in French 
by Roland Freart, Sieur de Cambraye," and " rendered English " 
by John Evelyn, Fellow of the Eoyal Society, i 

Evelyn obtained a charter for the society from Charles II., 
and named it The Royal Society. The rare literary accumula- 
tions of the noble family of the Howards were contributed to the 
library. 2 

The rules which forbid the publication of names would, of 
course, prohibit the Rosicrucians from writing their names in 
books which were likely to reveal the course of their studies, or 
their connection with a certain clique of persons ; and so, in ef- 
fect, we find. They must adopt feigned initials, or mottoes, in 
order to identify themselves amongst their initiated friends 
alone. This again explains the disfigurement which so often dis- 
tresses the purchaser of good old books of a certain class, and 
which is caused by the cutting out of large jiieces of the title- 
pages, or frontispieces, or fly-leaves, or the cancelling, by scrib- 
bling with pen and ink, sometimes six or eight names on the 
page. It is the exception and not the rule, in books professedly 
Rosicrucian, and previous to the eighteenth century, to find in 
them the name of any owner, although they may, apparently, 
have passed through mauy hands. 

The same circumstance explains the mystery as to the disap- 
pearance of Bacon's library — which is a mystery, although the 
world has been content to take it very apathetically. Bacon's 
library must have been something quite remarkable for his day. 
Like Prospero, we know that his books were dearer to him far 
than state or public life, which was always a toil and burden to 
his nature. 



1 This little -work is entitled An Idea of Painting. "We commend the con- 
sideration of it to Baconian readers, believing that Evelyn merely " rendered 
English " that which had first appeared in France, by publishing the original 
English of Bacon, written when ho was a young man living and travelling in 
the south of France, and perhaps in Italy. 

2 See Disraeli's Curiosities of Literature. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 227 

" Being so reputed 
In dignity, and for the liberal arts, 
Without a parallel ; those being all my study, . . . 
. I to my state grew stranger, being transported 
And rapt in secret studies." 

Prospero, in his fall and banishment, is represented as most 
highly commending the kindness of the noble Gonzalo, who 

" Of his gentleness, 
Knowing I loved my books, he furnished me 
From my own library with volumes that 
I prize above my dukedom." 

Without trespassing on the domain of the novelist, we may 
fairly believe that Bacon's feelings were the same, even if he did 
not actually experience a similar episode in the days of his cruel 
ruination and banishment from the home of his youth. 

Where is Bacon's library? Undoubtedly the books exist and 
are traceable. We should expect them to be recognisable by 
marginal notes; yet these notes, whether in pencil or in ink, 
may have been effaced. If annotated, Bacon and his friends 
would not wish his books to attract public attention. Yet not 
only their intrinsic worth, but their priceless value as belonging 
to their beloved master, would have made the friends and fol- 
lowers of Bacon more than commonly anxious to ensure the 
safety of these books. Bacon himself, we feel sure, would have 
taken steps to this end. Yet it is observable that in neither of 
his wills (elaborate and detailed in particulars though they be) 
does he mention his library. Copies of all his writings, " fair 
bound," were to be placed in the King's library, and in the 
university libraries at Cambridge and Oxford, in Trinity College, 
Cambridge, and " Bennet College, where my father was bred," 
and in the libraries of Lambeth and Eton. 

The MSS. in his ^^ cabinets, boxes, and presses ^^ — (think of 
the quantity of papers suggested by these words) — were to be 
taken possession of by three trustees, Constable, Selden, and 
Herbert, and to be by them perused and by degrees published. 
But of books there is not a word, and observation has led the 
present writer to the conclusion that during his life Bacon 
assigned his books to certain of his friends for life, or for use, 



228 FRANCIS BACON 

and that eventuaHy these books were to find their way into the 
great hbraries where they now repose, and where future research 
will oblige them to yield up their secret, and to say what 
hand first turned their pages, whose eyes first mined into them 
to extract the precious ore so long buried beneath the dust of 
oblivion? Where, in what books, do we find this gold of knowl- 
edge, seven times tried in the crucible of poetic philosophy, 
cast into living lines, and hammered upon the muses' anvil into 
the " well-tuned and true-filed lines " which are not of an age 
but for all time? 

We earnestly exhort young and able scholars, whose lives lie 
before them, to follow up this subject. Think of the new worlds 
of knowledge that remain to be explored and conquered. Who 
can tell the contents of the library at Eton, in which Bacon 
took such a lively interest? Who has ever thoroughly examined 
the hoards of manuscripts of Bacon's time at Lambeth Palace, 
at the Record Office, at Dulwich, or at the British Museum? 
Baconians, reading with modern search-lights rather tban by the 
dim rays shed from even the best lamp of the last century, can- 
not fail in future to perceive many things which escaped the 
notice of previous observers, however diligent. 

The Selden and Pembroke collections of books at the Bodleian 
Library, the Cotton Library at the British Museum, the libraries 
of the Royal Society, the Antiquaries, and others directly con- 
nected with Bacon, the theological library at Sion College, 
Gresham College, the collection of Bacon's works in the Uni- 
versity Library, Cambridge, and at Trinity College, should be 
examined, and every collection, public or private, which was 
commenced or much enlarged between 1580 and 1680, should 
be most thoroughly ransacked with a special eye to records, 
direct and indirect, of the working of Bacon and his friends, 
and with a view to tracing Ms books. It is probable that the 
latter will seldom or never be found to bear his name or signa- 
ture. Rather we should expect, in accordance with Rosicrucian 
rules, that no name, but only a motto, an enigmatic inscription, 
or the initials of the title by which he passed amongst the 
brethren, would be found in these books. Yet it may reason- 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 229 

ably be anticipated that some at least are " noted in the margin, " 
or that some will be found with traces of marks which were 
guides to the transcriber or amanuensis, as to the portions which 
were to be copied for future use in Bacon's collections or book 
of " commonplaces." 

One word more, before quitting these rules of the Rosicru- 
ciaus. The eighteenth rule shows that on the death of a brother 
nothing should be done which should reveal his connection with 
the fraternity. His tomb was to be either without epitaph or 
the inscription must be ambiguous. It is remarkable how many 
of the tombs of Bacon's friends and of the distinguished names 
of his time come under one or the other of these descriptions. 
Some of these will be noticed in their proper place. Meanwhile, 
let us remark that there seems to be only one satisfactory way of 
accounting for this apparently unnecessary rule. The explana- 
tion is of the same kind as that given with regard to rule 5, 
which prohibits the members of the society from professing a 
knowledge which they did not possess. 

For suppose that the friends of deceased Rosicrucians had 
inscribed upon their tombs epitaphs claiming for them the author- 
ship of works which had passed current as their writings, but 
which they did not really originate. The monuments would, in 
many cases, have been found guilty doing positive dishonour, 
not only to the sacred place in which they were erected, but 
even to the dead, whose memory they were to preserve, for they 
would actually declare and perpetuate untruths, or at the best 
half-truths, certain in the end to be discovered. 

It is rare to find any epitaph by way of eulogium over the 
grave of any person who seems to have collaborated with Bacon, 
or to have been accredited with the authorship of any work which 
is suspiciously Baconian. Rarer still do we find on such tombs 
any hint that the so-called poet or philosopher ever wrote any- 
thing. In the few cases where this is asserted or suggested, 
there are reasons for believing, or actual proof, that the inscrip- 
tion, perhaps the monument itself, was put up by descendants or 
admirers some years after the death of the individual to whom 
the memorial was erected. 



CHAPTER YIII. 

THE VITAL SPIRITS OF NATURE. 

"In Nature's infinite book of secresy, a little I can read." 

— Antony and Cleojiatra. 

BACON seems to have been strongly influenced and stimu- 
lated by the study of the works of the celebrated theos- 
ophist, physician, and chemist, Paracelsus, whom he often cites 
(not always with approval), and from whose doctrine of the 
" Vital Spirits of Nature " it is clear that he must have derived 
the original germ of those lovely ideas of all-pervading life 
which reappear throughout his writings, and preeminently in the 
Midsummer NiglWs Dream, Macbeth, and The Tempest. 

When the comet or new star suddenly shone forth in 1572, 
in the constellation of Cassiopeia, it was marked as a por- 
tent or harbinger of success for the boy Francis, who in that year 
went up for the first time to Cambridge, and who even at that 
early age was manifesting signs of future greatness. 

Now it is worthy of note that this same portent was observed 
by Paracelsus as heralding the advent of " the artist Elias," by 
whose means a revelation was to be made which would be of the 
highest importance to the human race; and, again, this proph- 
ecy of Paracelsus was accepted by the Rosicrucians as true, and 
as finding its fulfilment in the fact that in the year 1572 the 
wonderful boy did make his appearance, and became the founder 
of their society. 

^* Paracelsus, in the eighth chapter of his Treatise on Metals, 
gives utterance to the following prognostication : ' God ivill per- 
mit a discover// of the highest unportance to be made ; it must be 
hidden till the advent of the artist Elias.^ 

" In the first chapter of the same work he says: ^ And it is 
true, there is nothing concealed which shall not be discovered; for 

(230) 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 231 

which cause a marvelous being shall come after me, ivho as yet 
lives not, and ivho shall reveal many things.'' 

"These pcassagesi have been claimed as referring to the 
founder of the Rosicrucian order; and as prophecies of this 
character are usually the outcome of a general desire rather 
than of an individual inspiration, they are interesting evidence 
that then, as now, many thoughtful people were looking for 
another saviour of society. At the beginning of the seven- 
teenth century 'a great and general leformation,' says Buhle,— 
' a reformation more radical and more directed to the moral 
improvement of mankind than that accomplished by Luther — 
was believed to be impending over the human race, as a neces- 
sary forerunner to the day of judgment.' The comet of 1572 
was declared by Paracelsus to be ' the sign and harbinger of the 
coming revolution,'' and it will readily be believed that his 
innumerable disciples would welcome a secret society whose vast 
claims were founded on the philosophy of the Master whom 
they also venerated as a supreme factor in the approaching 
reformation. Paracelsus, however, had recorded a still more 
precise prediction, namely, that 'soon after the decease of the 
Emperor Budoljjh, there tvoidd be found three treasures that had 
never been revealed before that time.' " 

The author then claims that these are the three great Rosi- 
crucian documents which were issued at the time appointed, 
and which he has recently published for the first time in English, 
under the titles of " The Universal Reformation of the Whole 
Wide World," " Fama Fraternitatis ; or, a Discovery of the Fra- 
ternity of the Most Laudable Order of the Rosy Cross," and 
" The Confession of the Rosicrucian Fraternity, addressed to 
the Learned of Europe. " 

It is easy to picture to ourselves the effect of these prognosti- 
cations of Paracelsus, joined to the fact that the wonderful star 
did appear at the very time when the youthful j)hilosopher was 
himself sent forth to shine as a prodigy and portent — it is easy 
to imagine the impression produced upon a highly-strung, sen- 
sitive boy by such a combination of circumstances, to which, 
doubtless, his admiring friends and tutors were not slow in 
drawing his attention. Years afterward we find him making 



1 The Real History of the Rosicruciaus, A. E. Waito, pp. 34-5. Published by, 
Kedway. 



232 FRANCIS BACON 

" experiments, " " touching emission of immateriate virtues from 
the minds and spirits of men, either by affections, or by imagi- 
nations, or by other impressions. " He speaks of the force of 
imagination, and of the means to exalt it, and endeavours to 
solve this problem : Whether a man constantly and strongly 
believing that such a thing shall be, it cloth help anything to the 
effecting of the thing itself. He decides that it is certain that 
such efiects result; but that the help is, for one man to work by 
means of another, in tvhom he may create belief, and not by him- 
self, and we think it by no means improbable that in childhood 
his own imagination was thus wrought upon and kindled into 
enthusiasm concerning the work to which he was called, and 
which he regarded as sacred. 

Bacor does not, in his scientific works, often quote Paracelsus; 
in some points he entirely differs from him, disapproving of his 
doctrines, and of their effects upon popular belief. He protests 
against the excessive freedom in the interpretation of Scripture, 
which either explains '' the divinely-inspired Scriptures as 
human writings," or else " which presupposes such perfection in 
Scripture that all philosophy likewise should be derived from 
its sources, as if all other philosophy were something profane 
and heathen. This distemper has principally grown up in the 
school of Paracelsus and some others, but the beginnings thereof 
came from the rabbis and Cabalists. " i He shows the error of 
Paracelsus and his school, who, " seeking a place for its three 
principles even in the temple of Juno, that is, the air, established 
three winds, and for the east found no place. "2 jje reproves 
the intemperate extremes of these " disciples of pretended nat- 
ural magic," who exalted " fascination," or " the power and ap- 
prehension of the imagination, to be muc}i one with the power 
of miracle-working faith. "3 He laughs at the ''prodigious 
follies" of those who aim at making Paracelsus' pigmies. * 
" Vast and bottomless follies which ascribe to imagination ex- 
alted the power of wonder-working faith, 5 fancies as wild as 

1 De Aug. is. 2 Hist, of Winds. 3 De Aug. iv. (It is curious to see how 
fashions and delusions return. Note the present "faith-healing" fancies.) 4 Nat. 
Hist. i. 99, and Hist. Dense and Rare. 5 Nat. Hist. i. 1. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 233 

that by which Paracelsus was to have it that nutrition is 
caused only by separation, and that in bread and meat lie eye, 
nose, brain, liver, and in the moisture of the ground root, leaf, 
and flower." i Neither does he share the " idle notion of Para- 
celsus that there are parts and correspondences between man's 
body and all the species of stars, plants, and miuerals; misap- 
plying the emblem of man as a microcosm or epitome of the 
world in support of this fancy of theirs." 2 

Bacon differed on many points from Paracelsus, and, as we 
see, did not wish to be supposed a disciple of his; yet he studied 
very closely all that he had to say, and quoted him by name as 
if to lead others to the consideration of his works, from which 
he drew so much, although, perhaps, not of the kind, or after 
the fashion, which the alchemist philosopher might have desired 
and expected. The notion which is prominent in the writings 
of Paracelsus concerning the " Vital Spirits of Nature" fell in 
perfectly with Bacon's own ideas, and this poetical and beautiful 
fancy pervades his writings to such a degree as to be insepar- 
able from them. The method in which he handles the subject 
is also so peculiar as to form another touchstone by which the 
authorship of certain works may be tested, since the thought of 
any two men, forming the same fanciful theories, and deriving 
from them the same subtle thoughts and conclusions, is too 
improbable to be seriously entertained. 

In the preface to the History of Life and Death, the editor 
says : 

" The idea on which Bacon's idea of longevity is founded, 
namely, that the principle of life resides in a subtle fluid or 
spirit, which permeates the tangible parts of the organisation of 
plants and animals, seems to be coeval with the first origin of 
speculative physiology. Bacon was one of those by whom this 
idea was extended from organised to iuorganised bodies. In all 
substances, according to him, resides a portion of spirit which 
manifests itself only in its operations, being altogether intangi- 
ble and without weight. This doctrine appeared to be to him 
of most certain truth, but he has nowhere stated the grounds of 
his conviction, nor even indicated the kind of evidence by which 



1 lso\. Org. i. 48. 2 De Aug. iv. % 



234 FBANCIS BACON 

the existence of the spiritus is to be established. In living bod- 
ies he conceived that two kinds of spirits exist: a crude or mor- 
tuary spirit; such as is present in other substances, and the 
animal or vital spirit, to which the phenomena of life are to be 
referred. To keep this vital spirit, the wine of life, from oozing 
away ought to be the aim of the physician who attempts to in- 
crease the number of our few and evil days. " i 

The writer is here treating chiefly of the body, but wherever 
Bacon speaks of inorganic matter, or of organised forms of 
plants, etc., he uses language which expresses that they are 
more or less living and sentient, having vital spirits which act 
somewhat as in the bodies of living creatures. Doubtless his 
poetical nature led him always into metaphoric language ; his 
" nimbleness to perceive analogies, " his sense of beauty and of 
the wonderful harmony in which the world was created tended 
to make him speak and write thus; but a deeper feeling still 
moved him continually to connect the " crude, " " gross, " and 
** earthy " with the ** rare, " " airy and flamy " of the sensitive soul. 
He was forever mentally endeavouring to bring about a union or 
marriage between things natural and things spiritual, to " min- 
gle earth with heaven. " " I am labouring with all my might to 
make the mind of man a match for the nature of things. " 2 

It is, therefore, to be expected, as a single outcome of his 
cogitations and philosophy, that we shall read of " Motion 
which invites an excited body; " " Materials which refuse to be 
heated; " Master spirits which, in any body, curb, tame, subdue, 
and regulate other parts," etc. " Bodies which delight in mo- 
tion and enjoy t\xQ\v own nature," and which, in spontaneous 
rotation, ^^ follow themselves, and court, so to speak, their own 
embraces. " Other " bodies abhor motion, and remain at rest. " 
Others " move by the shortest path, to consort with bodies of their 
own nature. " " By this appetite for motion all bodies of con- 
siderable density abhor motion; indeed, the desire of not moving 
is the only appetite they have ; and though, in countless ways, 
they be enticed and challenged to motion, they yet, as far as they 



1 Prcf. Hist. Vitce ei Mortis, by Robert Leslie Ellis. Spedding, Bacon's Works, 
ii. J- . 91. 

' Oe Aug. V. 2. 



AND HIS 8ECRET SOCIETY. 235 

can, maintain tlieir proper nature; and if compelled to move, 
they, nevertheless, seem always intent on recovering their state 
of rest, and moving no more. While thus engaged, indeed, they 
show themselves active, and struggle for it with agility and swift- 
ness enoagh, as loeary and imjmtient of all delay. . . . Of the mo- 
tions I have set forth, some are invincible, some are stronger than 
others, fettering, curbing, arranging them; some ccirry further 
than others; some outstrip others in speed; some cherish, strengthen, 
enlarge, and accelerate others. " i 

How lifelike all this is 1 Surely, it might be supposed that we 
were reading of two-legged or four-legged creatures instead of 
particles of matter. In the same vein the philosopher-poet tells 
of opiates and kindred medicaments, which put the spirits utterly 
to flight by their malignant and hostile nature.^ How, if taken 
internally, their fumes, ascending to the head, disperse in all 
directions the spirits contained in the ventricles of the brain, and 
these spirits, thus withdrawing themselves, and unable to escape 
into any other part, are . . . sometimes utterly choked and extin- 
guished. Rosewater, on the other hand, " cherishes " the spirits. 

^Ye read, too, of Continuance as the steward or almoner of 
Nature; 3 of Heat and Cold as the hands by which she works. 
Cold as an enemy to growth, and bad air an enemy to health; of 
the west y^ind friendly to plants, and of strife and friendship in 
nature. Bodies, [at the touch of a body that is friendly, . . . 



1 Nov. Org. i. 47. Compare with the preceding sentences "Passion, invites me." 
Twelfth Night, ii. U. " A spirit too delicate . . . refusing [the foul witch's] 
grand bests." Temp. i. 2. "All hail, great master." lb. "Her more potent 
ministers, lb. "My ^jo<e/(,< master.^'' lb. iv. 1. '■'■ Carb this cruel devil of his 
v'iU." Mer. Yen. iv. 1, and Ham. iii. 4. "Tam£ the savage spirit of wild war." 
John, V. 2. " The delighted sjnrit to bathe in fiery floods." Meas.for Meas. iii. 1. 
"More .spirit chased than ejijoi/ed.'" Mer. Yen. ii. 6. "The air smells ?TOom/7/y 
here." 31acb.\.%. "Nature doth a6/to)- to make bis bed," etc. Cymb.'w.A. "Night's 
swift dragons cut clouds full fast . . . damned ^^sirits, all . . . all gone, and must 
for aye consort with black-browed night." Midsummer NigMs Dream, iii. 2., etc. 

2 See Nov. Org. ii. 48, 50. Hist. Winds, Qualities, 27. Hist. Hea^y and Light, 
Cog. NatiirsB, vi., etc. 

3 " The gifts of Nature." Twelfth Night, i. 3; Ham. i. 5, etc. " Frugal na- 
ture." iv. i. '^ Our foster nur,se of nature is repose." "Poison and treason 
are the hands of sin." Pericles, i. 1. "Care's an enemy to life." Twelfth Night, 
i. 2. " Nature is thy friend." Merry Wives, iii. 3. 



236 FBANCIS BACON 

open themselves; but, at the touch of an unfriendly body, they 
shrink up.'" i 

In the Anatomy of Melancholy {which, as has been said, seems 
to be the sweepings of Bacon's note-boolis on all subjects con- 
nected with the Doctrine of the Union of Mind and Body) all 
these ideas are reproduced and expanded. 

The chapter containing the passages of the Digression of 
Spirits is particularly interesting and instructive, forming, as it 
does, a connecting link between the science and the poetry of 
the plays. Who that reads such sentences as the following, 
which catch the eye as it travels hastily down those pages, but 
must be reminded of the scenes and lines in the Tempest, Mac- 
beth, Lear, and the Midsummer Nighfs Dream, and other plays, 
which are familiar in our mouths as household words? 

" Fiery spirits 2 are such as commonly work by blazing-stars, 
fire-drakes, 3 or ignis fatui; * which lead men oft in flmnina aut 
prcBcipitia, saith Bodine, lib. 2, Theat. Naturce,fol. 221; . . . like- 
wise they counterfeit suns and moons, 5 stars oftentimes, and sit 
on ship-masts, ... or which never appear, saith Cardan, but 
they signify some mischief or other to come unto men, though 
some again will have them to pretend good and victory; . . . and 
they do likely come after a sea-storm. . . , 

" Aerial spirits, or devils, are such as keep quarter most 
part in the air, cause many tempests, thunder and lightnings, 
tear oaks, fire steeples, houses, strike men^ and beasts, make it 
rain stones,'^ . , . counterfeit armies in the air, strange noises, 

1 " A south wind frietidli/." Winter's Tale, v. i. " Frieiidli/ drop " (of poison). 
Romeo and Juliet, v. 3. •' A huge infectious troop of pale distemperatures and 
foes to life." — M. M. v. 1. 

2 Comp. 3 Hen. YI. ii. 1, 21-38, and with " That fire-drake did I hit. . . . 
The devil vf&si amongst them.'' — Henry VIII. v. 3. 

3 Fierce, fiery warriors fight upon the clouds. The heavens blaze forth the death 
of princes. — Jul. Cces. ii. 2. 

4 The willo' the whp. Lob. "Thou Lob of Spirits" of Puck.— M. N. D. ii. 1. 
See Puck's behaviour, ih. iii. 1. " Sometimes a horse I'll be ; . . . sometime a 

fire.^'' See also the Fool of the Walking Fire and Flibbertigibbet, Lear, iii. 2, and 
Ariel's tricks upon Stephano and his fellows in The Temjjest, iv. i. 

5 Comp. 3 Hen. VI. ii. 1, 25-31. 

6 Compare Prospero's account of his own performances in his speech to the 
elves (Temp. v. 1), and Macb. iv. 1, 44-61. 

7 "The gods throw stones of sulphur." — Cymb. v. 5. "Are there no stones 
in beaveo'?" — Ot^. y, 2. "Let the skj^ rain potatoes." — Mer, Wiv, Y, 5, 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 237 

sivords,^ etc. . . . They cause ivhirlwinds on a sudden, and tem- 
pestuous storms, which, though our meteorologists generally refer 
to natural causes, yet I am of Bodine's mind (Theat. Nat. i. 2), 
they are more often caused by those aerial devils,^ for Tempestatibus 
se ingerunt, saith Kich. Argentine, as when a desperate man 
makes away tvith himself, which by hanging or drowning they 
frequently do.3 . . . These can corrupt the air and cause 
plagues, sickness, storms, shipwrecks, fires, inundations." 
Such devils or aerial spirits can " sell winds to mariners^ and 
cause tempests; they consort with witches and serve magicians.'^ 
. . . Cardan's father had one of them (as he is not ashamed to 
relate), an aerial devil, bound to him for twenty-eight years." 

Many other instances are given of men who employed such 
familiar spirits ; Paracelsus being suppose! to have one confined 
to his sword pummel, others who wore them in rings. 

" Water-devils are those naiads or water-nymphs conversant 
with waters and rivers.e The water (as Paracelsus thinks) is 
their chaos, wherein they live; some call them fairies, and say 
that Habundia is their queen; tltese cause inundations, many 
times shipwrecks, and deceive men divers ways, as succuba, or 
otherwise, appearing most part (saith Tritemius) in women's 
shape.7 Paracelsus hath several stories of them that have lived 
and been married to mortal men, and so continued for certain 
years with them; and after, upon some dislike, have forsaken 
them.8 Such a one as ^garia, . . . Diana, Ceres, etc. Olaus 
Magnus hath a narration of a King of Sweden, that, having 
lost his company one day, as he was hunting, met with these 
water-nymphs, or fairies, and was feasted by them; and Hector 
Boethlus tells of Macbeth and Banquo, two Scottish lords, that, 



1 See of the portents before the murdar of Caesar. "T/te noise of haUle 
hurtled x)i the air." — Jul. Cces. ii. 2. 

2 " Away ! the foal fiend follows mo ! . . . Who gives anrthing to poor Tom ? 
whom the. foul fiend hath led through fire aad through flame, through ford aud 
■whirlpool, over bog and quagmire. . . . Bless thee from whirUoUds, star-blastiiw, 
and taking." — Lear, in. 4. ' "^ 

3 See how the murder of Macbeth is accompanied and foreshadovred hy 
tempests {Macb. i. 1). This has been well accentuated in Mr. Irvine's repro- 
duction of the play. 

4 Note the witches and the mariners (Macb. i. 3), and especially the givim 
of a wind. 5 Ariel and Prospero. 

6 Prospero summons them, through Ariel, the most perfect impersonation "of 
a Paracelsian nymph. — Tenipest, v. 1. 

7 lb. i. 2. Macb. i. 3. 

8 Such is Undine in the lovely story of La Motte-Fouque. 



238 FRANCIS BACON 

as they were wandering in the woods, bad tlieir fortunes told 
them by tbree strange women. 

" Terrestrial devils are tbose Laves, Genii, Fauns, Satyrs, 
Wood-Nympbs, Foliots, Fairies, i Kobin Good-fellows, ^ etc., 
wbicb, as tbey are most conversant with men, so tbey do tbem 
most barm. Some tbink it was tbey alone tbat kept tbe beatben 
people in awe of old, and bad so 'mauy idols and temples erected 
to tbem. Of tbis range was Dagon among the Philistines, Bel 
among tbe Babylonians, Astarte among tbe Sidonians, Baal 
among tbe Samaritans, Isis and Osiris among tbe Egyptians, 
etc. Some put our fairies into this rank, which have been in 
former times adored with much superstition, with sivecping their 
houses, and setting of a pail of clear tvater, good victuals, and the 
like, and then they should not be pinched,"^ but find money in their 
shoes, ■* and be fortunate in their enterprises. 5 These are they 
that dance 071 heaths and greens,^ as Lavater thinks with Triten- 
nius, and, as Olaus Magnus adds, leaving tbat green circle'' which 
we commonly find in plain fields, wbicli others hold to proceed 
from a meteor falling, or some accidental rankness of the ground, 
so nature sports herself. . . . Paracelsus reckons up many places 
in Germany where they do usually walk in little coats, some 
two feet long. A bigger kind of tbem is called with us liohgob- 
lins and Robin Goodfellows, that would, in tbose superstitious 
times, grind corn for a mess of milk, cut ivood, or do any manner 
oj drudgery tvork. . . . Cardan holds, 8 they will make strange 
noises in tbe night, howl sometimes pitifully, and then laugh 
again, cause great flame and sudden lights, fling stones, rattle 

1 See M. iV. D. ii. 1. The fairies of Shakespeare are always Bacon's rital 
spirits of nature, and this soems to he now recognized. The sprites and fairies 
in Mr. Benson's recent representation of the MldsHmmer NigkCs Dream were 
properly attired as flowers, insects, buUrushes, river weeds, etc., and not. as 
formerly, in ballet skirts and satin shoes. In Marhf.lk ilr. Irving not only de- 
parts from the old idea of witches as hags in red cloaks and poke bonnets, but 
the witches are distinctly arrayed to imitate the winds, and a scene in dumb 
show is interpolated where these wind-witches fllled the sails which are to 
carry Macdufl"to England. 

2 j»f. N. D. ii. 1. 

3 "Let the supposed fairies pinch him." Iter. Wiv. iv. 4 "Pmc/i the maids 
blue; . . . pmc/i them, arms and legs and backs; . . . still pinch him, fairies, piuch 
bim to your time." 10. v. 5, aud Temj). i. 2, 3:28, and iv. 1, 'J33. 

4 "It was told me I should be rich by the fairies." W. T. iii. 3. 

5 "Fairies and gods prosper it with thee." Lear. iv. 6. 

■ 6 "Dance our ringlets to the whistlin-g winds." M. N. D. ii. 2. 

7 "Tou demi-puppets, that by moonshine do the soiir-ffreeii ringkls v^ah, 
whereof tlie aheep biles.'" — Temp.\.\. 

8 See of Ariel, who makes music in the air. Twanging instruments, voices 
bumming, or howling and thunder. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 239 

chains, shave men, open doors and shut them, fling down plat- 
ters, stools, chests, i sometimes appear in likeness of hares, crows, 
black dogs, ~ etc., of which read Pit. Thyroeus the Jesuit, in his 
tract, de locis infestis, i. 4, who will have them to be devils, or 
the souls of damned men that seek revenge, or else souls out of 
purgatory that seek ease. . . . These spirits often foretell men's 
deaths by several signs, as knockings, groanings, ^ etc. Near 
Rupes Nova, in Finland, in the Kingdom of Sweden, there is a 
lake in which, before the Governor of the Castle dies, a spec- 
trum, in the habit of ^rion with his harp, appears and makes 
excellent music. . . . Many families in Europe are so put in 
mind of their last by such predictions, and many men are fore- 
warned, (if we may believe Paracelsus), by familiar spirits in di- 
vers shapes, as cocks, crows, owls, which often hover about sick 
men'' s chambers, . . . forthat(asBernardinusdeBustisthinketh) 
God permits the devil to appear in the form of crows, and such- 
like creatures, to scare such as live wickedly here on earth." 

Farther on, when discoursing of idleness as a cause of melan- 
choly, the Anatomist describes the men who allow themselves to 
become a prey to vain and fantastical contemplation, as unable 
" to go about their necessary business, or to stave off and extri- 
cate themselves," but as "ever musing, melancholising, and 
carried along as he that is led round about a heath with Puck in 
the night, they run earnestly on in this labyrinth of anxious and 
solicitous meditation." 

Such notes and studies as these appear most conspicuously in 
the Shakespeare and other plays of Bacon. It is hard to believe 
that he could have created the fairy world of the Midsummer 
NigUfs Dream without some such preparation as is recorded in 
the scientific notes. Let us give a few minutes' consideration to 
this play, with the view of showing how dry facts, business- 
like notes, and commonplace observation were distilled into 

1 See how this is illustrated in M. N. D. ii. 1. Puck takes the form of a stool. 

2 "J/i likeness of i\ filly foal." M. N. D. ii. 1. 

"Sometime a horse I'll be, sometimes a hound, 
A hog, a headless bear, sometime a fire; 
And neigh, and bark, and grunt, and roar, and bum, 
Like horse, hound, hog, bear, and fire, at every turn." 

M. N. D. iii. 1. 
S Compare the sounds, etc., before the deaths of Duncan, Macbeth, and Julius 
Caesar. 

4 '-It was the owl that shrieked, that fearful bellman." Mad. ii 3. 



240 FRANCIS BACON 

poetry in that wonderful mind of wliich John Beaumont said 
mat it was able ** to lend a charm to the greatest as well as to 
the meanest of matters. '' i 

To begin with Puck's well-known speech. Oberon desires him 
to fetch a certain herb and to return " ere Leviathan can swim 
a league." Puck answers: 

" I'll put a girdle round about the earth 
In forty minutes." 

Bacon, in studying the winds, made many inquiries as to the 
parts of the globe in which the winds chiefly occur, and where 
they blow with the greatest swiftness. He finds this to be the 
case at the tropics. " In Peru, and divers parts of the West 
Indies, though under the line, the heats are not so intolerable as 
they are in Barbary and the skirts of the torrid zone. The 
causes are, first, the great breezes which the motion of the air in 
great circles, such as are under the girdle of the earth, producethV 
Puck, then, is the ministering wind, Oberon's familiar or aerial 
spirit, who will, at his bidding, sweep round the girdle of the 
earth, where, according to Bacon's observations, winds travel 
with the greatest speed. 

Puck is " one of the free winds which range over a wide 
space." We know this, because he calls himself 2 "a merry 
wanderer of the night, " and the/ree winds. Bacon tells us, " last, 
generally, for twenty-four hours;" it is the " smaller and lighter 
winds " which " generally rise in the morning and fall at 
sunset. "3 

The first scene in which the fairies enter suggests the airi- 
ness of the elves, the " rare " and wind-like nature which 
Bacon says resembles fame, ** for the winds penetrate and 
bluster everyivhere.''^ The fairies here seem to be "the free 
winds blowing from every quarter," and the first speaker " an 
attendant wind, " whose duty it is " to collect clouds, " and 
which are, according to the " History," of a moist nature. 

iThe following is reprinted from an article published in Shalespearlana, 
April, 1884. 

2 M. N. D. ii. 1. 

3 Histoiy of Winds. Spedding, 'Works, v. 143. 



AND His SECRET SOCIETY. 241 

PiicL How now, spirit, whither wander you? 
FaL Over hill, over dale, 

Thorough bush, thorough brier, 

Over park, over pale, 
Thorough flood, thorough fire, 

I do wander everywhere, 

Swifter than the moon's sphere; 

And I serve the fairy queen, 

To dew her orbs upon the green. 

The cowslips tall her pensioners be: 
• In their gold coats spots you see; 

Those be rubies, fairy favours, 

In those freckles live their savours: 

I must go seek some dewdrops here, 

And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear. 

There is something iufiuitely pleasurable in tracing in the 
speeches of the fairies which follow all the details, as to their 
nature, avocations, and abode, of the spirits of fire, air, earth, 
and water, which are here so exquisitely presented to us^ 

The fairies who meet in groves and green — 
By fountain clear or spangled starlight sheen. 

And although the more popular idea of fairies, because (so we 
think) it was first so presented in this play, is the idea of " wood 
nytnphs, " " terrestrial spirits, " we still find the fairies of the hill 
and dale, of forest and mead, mixed up and consorting with 
lighter winds and breezes which spring up beside rivers and 
running water. Titania upbraids Oberou because 

Never, since the middle summer's spring, 

Met we on hill, in dale, forest or mead. 

By paved fountain or by rushy brook. 

Or on the beached margent of the sea. 

To dance our ringlets to the whistling wind, 

But with thy brawls thou hast disturb'd our sport. 

In a speech of nearly forty lines, she continues to pour out a 
string of Baconian observations on the " contagious" effects of 
fogs, sucked up from the sea by the revengeful winds; of the 
" rotting" produced by warm, damp windi (which, Bacon adds, 
are usually from the south or southwest); of the rheumatic dis- 
orders and changes of season and consequent " distempera- 

16 



242 FRANCIS BACON 

tures" resulting from inuudatious, which have " drowned" the 
fields and filled the nine men's morris with the unwholesome 
"mud" which Bacon's soul abhorred. The influence of the 
moon is also noted here, as in the scientiflc notes: 

" The moon, the governess of floods, 
Palo in her anger, ■washes all the air." 

And the effect which she produces, of raising the tides and so 
of causing inundations and destruction of vegetation, is as clearly 
marked as in the notes on the Ebb and Floiv of the Sea, or in the 
Sylva Sylvarum. 

" The periodical winds," says Bacon, " do not bloiv at night, 
but get up the third hour after sunrise. All free winds, likewise, 
blow oftener and more violently in the morning and evening 
than at noon and night. " So, when midnight approaches, Oberon 
and his train retire, "following darkness like a dream," but 
with commands to " meet me all by break of day.'''' 

In the last scene of this charmingly spiritual piece. Puck 
again declares himself the true child of Bacon's imagination. 
In describing the frohcs of the fairies (perhaps the " frivolous 
winds," which he describes as ^'■performing dances, of which it 
would be pleasing to know the order "), Puck speaks of sprites 
who are let forth to " glide about " : 

"... fairies that do run 
By the triple Hecate's team, 
From the presence of the sim." 

For, Bacon says, " i/<e lo'inds cease at noon." Of himself, 
Puck says : 

" I am sent toUk broom before. 
To siveej} the dust behind the door." 

For as wo again read in the History of Winds : " To the 
earth, which is the seat and habitation of men, the winds serve 
for brooms, siveeping and cleansing hoth it and the air itself." 

The poet, then, according to these observations, derived his 
lovely conceptions of the fairies, in the first instance, from his 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 243 

careful but suggestive notes on the zephyrs and breezes, of 
whom he makes Puck chief or swiftest. To many other airy 
nothings he gives neither a local habitation nor a name. Yet 
we feel sure that they are the vital spirits of nature — " water- 
nymphs conversant with waters and rivers, " such as Oberon 
has employed to " cause inundations " — or they are terrestrial 
spirits, like the Hobgoblins and Eobin Goodfellows of the 
Anatomy, and who do the same domestic drudgery, and play the 
same pranks that are there described in similar detail, bringing, 
in spite of their fun and mischief, good luck to the houses which 
they frequent. 

Fai. Either I mistake your shape and making quite, 
Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite 
Call'd Robin Goodfellow : are not you ho 
That frights the maidens of the villagery ; 
Skim milk, and sometimes labour in the quern 
And bootless make the breathless housewife churn ; 
And sometimes make the drink to bear no barm ; 
Mislead night- wanderers, laughing at their hann ? 
Those that Hobgoblin call you and sweet Puck, 
You do their work, and they shall have good luck : 
Are not you he ? 

Puck. Thou spoak'st aright ; 

I fim that merry wanderer of the night. 
I jest to Oberon and make him smilo 
When I a fat and beau-fed horse beguile, 
Neighing in likeness of a filly foal ; 
And sometime lurk I in a gossip's bowl, 
In verj' likeness of a roasted crab. 
And when she drinks, against her lips I bob, 
And on her wither'd dewlap pour the ale. 
The wisest aunt, telling the saddest tale. 
Sometime for three-foot stool mistaketh mc ; 
Then slip I from her, then down topples she, 
And " tailor" cries, and falls into a cough ; 
And then the whole quire hold their hips and laugh, 
And waxen in their mirth, and neeze and swear. 
A merrier hour was never wasted there, l 

" Sir Fulke Greville . , . would say merrily of himself: that 
he was like Robin Goodfellow, for when the maids spilt the milk- 

1 Midsummer Night's Dream. 



244 FMANCIS BACON 

pans, or kept any racket, they would lay it on Kobin ; so, what 
tales the ladies about the Queen told her, or other bad offices 
they had, they would put it upon him. "i 

There are four fairies besides Puck, who, somewhat less 
ethereal than the rest, specially connect themselves with the 
studies of the natural philosopher, and appear to be the very 
coinage of his brain. In recalling the flowers which perfume 
the air most delightfully in gardens, when crushed or trodden 
upon, Bacon begins with " beau flowers, " but checks himself 
by saying that thei/ are not for gardens, because they are field 
flowers." Elsewhere he says that " the daintiest smells of flow- 
ers are those plants whose leaves smell not, as the bean flower." 
He suggests " the setting of whole alleys of buruet, wild thyme, 
and mint, to have pleasure when you walk and tread, " and in 
another place he says that " odours are very good to comfort the 
heart," and the smell of leaves falling and of bean blossoms sup- 
plies a good coolness to the spirits. Thus, whilst commending 
the sweetness of 

"A bank whereon the wild thyme gi'ows," 

bean flowers are, in his estimation, sweeter still, and in the 
fairy " Peaseblossom " of the play we seem to recognise the 
" bean flower," sweetest of perfumes amongst field flowers, and 
whose mission is to supply a "cooling" and "comforting" 
odour to the bank whereon the Fairy Queen will repose. 
" Mustardseed " is a brisk ministering spirit of the fairy court, 
for " mustard," says Bacon, has in it " a quick spirit, ready to 
get up and spread." 

""Where's Monsieur Mustardseed ? 
Ready . . . "What's your will ? " 

Peaseblossom and Cobweb are also ready, but only the fiery 
and quick-spirited Mustardseed is ready to get up and act. 

Then Moth — be not appalled, delicate reader— Moth seems 
to be the winged product of Bacon's experiments touching 
living creatures bred of putrefaction. " For putrefaction is the 
work of the spirits of bodies, which ever are unquiet to get 

1 Bacon's Apophthegms, 235; Spedding, "Works, vii. 158. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 245 

forth and' congregate with the air " (the wind fairies), " and to 
enjoy the sunbeams." Titania is the sunbeam, the vivifying 
and all-cheering spirit of living things. Her name proclaims 
her nature. We are told " moths and butterflies quicken with 
heat, and revive easily, even when they seem dead, being 
brought near the sun." What, tlien, can be more fitting than 
that the soft, ephemeral white " Moth " should be found hovering 
or flitting about where Titania, the Sunbeam, isf 

Cobweb, or Gossamer, is another almost immaterial creature, 
" bred by deio and sun all over the ground. . . . Cobwebs are 
most seen where caterpillars abound, which breedeth {sic) by 
dew and leaves. " They are a sign of dryness, . . . and come 
when the dry east winds have most blown." The ideas which 
spring from these details, and which arc woven into the 
" Dream, " are as subtile as the Gossamer itself, and almost as 
difficult to handle without destroying their beauty. By means 
of the clues offered by the simple names of the attendants upon 
Titania, we may, if we will, follow, panting, the nimble bounds 
of the poet's fancy, to bend and twirl and light in unexpected 
places, while he leads us a dance through the sciences — that 
" labyrinth," whose paths are '' so subtle, intricate, and crossing 
each other, that they are only to be understood and traced by 
the clue of experience. '• 

We conjure up, perhaps faintly, the dream which he was 
dreaming of universal nature — the Oberon of the play i — of the 
nature upon which the zephyrs and soft winds wait, hasting to 
assist the operations of the Sunbeam, the life-giver. When the 
east winds have dried the banks, Cobweb overspreads them 
with his delicate covering to receive the Fairy Queen, and as 
she sleeps, her " spirits cooled," and her" heart comforted " by 
the perfumes which Peaseblossom scatters. Moth fans her with 
his noiseless wings, and Mustardseed stands ready to spring up 
to obey her best or know what is her will. 

1 Compare Oberon with Pan as described in the essay by Bacon and in the 
De Augmenli'!. The universal nature of things, whicli lias its origin from 
confused matter; the hairiness of his body representing tlte rayx of thinijs ; his 
control over the nature and fates of things — as Oberon, in the'plaiy, is seen to 
regulate the general course of events. 



24(i FBAN CIS BACON 

Those fairies were the children of an idle brain — considering 
whose brain it was. Troubles which were but as a summer 
cloud, in comparison to the storms which broke over his later 
life, had lately passed away when that rare vision was dreamed. 
The pert and nimble spirit of mirth was again wide-awake. 
Francis Bacon's pretty device, The Masque of the Indian Boy, 
had lately been performed before the Queen ; his mind was full 
of thoughts such as pervade that little, courtly piece, when, in 
the glades and river-scenes of Twickenham, the poet, as we 
believe, on some hot summer's night, wrote his fairy story. 

Things had changed when he set his pen to write Macbeth. 
" There's nothing either g3od or ill but thinking makes it so." 
The world and its joys had grown dark to Francis Bacon, and 
the very elements, the powers of nature, turned wild and 
gloomy in the distracted globe of his great mind. 

The winds are no longer " frivolous, "" dancing, "" piping, 
and whistling to each other, " " gamboling with golden locks, " 
"playing with the sedges." They are now the powerful and 
portentous ministers of fate as well as of nature; their realm is 
full of hurly-burly, fog and filthy air; their nature, still spiritual, 
is no longer fairy-like, but witch-like and demoniacal. The 
beneficent merry spirits have been transformed into the evil 
geniuses and hell-hags, whose mission is to confound unity, 
to lead men on to their destruction, to tumble all nature 
together, even till destruction sickens. 

The witches of Macbeth have about them some points which 
distinguish them from all other beings of the kind with whom 
literature acquaints us. They seem to have been created in the 
poet's brain by a subtle blending or fusion of his lawyer's expe- 
rience in trials for witchcraft — of " witches, inhabitants of 
earth" — with his scientific and metaphysical investigations and 
conceits as to the properties and " versions " of air, breath, and 
water; of the "transmissions of spiritual species; " of "the 
operations of sympathy in things which have been contiguous." 
]?acon's witches, inhabitants rathi-r of the air and clouds than 
of the earth, partake (by sympathy with the elements to which 
they are " contiguous " ) of the virtues and characteristics of 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 2i7 

air, vapours, and exbalatious. It was a recognised character- 
istic of witches, that they ride through the air generally on 
broomsticli^s, and vanish, but the more poetical idea of their 
conversion, at pleasure, into the elements to which they are 
made kindred, is, we believe, only to be found in Macbeth. 

In the few descriptive words of Macbeth and Banquoi the 
scientific doctrine of the convertibility of air, vapour, and water 
is clearly seen, and with it the poetical and very Baconian 
doctrine of the mutual influence of body and spirit. It is by 
sympathy that the witches can turn themselves into either form. 
Spirits they are, airy, or " pneumatic bodies, which partake 
both of an oily and watery substance, and which, being converted 
into a pneumatic substance, constitute a body composed, as it 
were, of air and flame, and combining the mysterious properties 
of both. Now, these bodies," continues Bacon, "are of the 
nature of breaths. " 

The witches vanish, and Banquo exclaims: 

" Tlte earth has hubbies as the water hath, 
And these are of them. Whither are they vanished ? " 

Macbeth replies: 

" Into the air: and what seemed corporal, melted 
As breath, into the wind. " 

So, too, he describes to Lady Macbeth how, when he tried to 
question the witches : 

" They made themselves air, into which they vanished.'" 

There is in this line something singularly weird, supernatural, 
and poetic, drawn, as it surely is, and as Bacon tells us that all 
great sayings are drawn, from the very centre of the sciences. 

The witches, in the first act, appear to be incarnations of air, 
in violent agitation or motion ; strong winds, accompanied by 
thunder and lightning, such as Bacon describes. In the third 
scene two witches, spirits of air, offer to help Hecate by the 
gift of a wind. They are more generous than the aerial spirits 
mentioned in the Anatomy, who " seZ? winds, " and Hecate 

1 Macbeth, i. 3, 79-82. 



248 FRANCIS BACON 

acknowledges their merit. " Thou art kind,^^ she says, for she 
is busy raising tempest after the manner described by Bacon,i 
and an extra wind or so is not unacceptable. 
In the same scene the weird sisters describe themselves as : 

" Posters of the sea and land," 

just as, in the History of Winds, Bacon speaks of " clouds that 
drive fast, ^^ "winds traders in vapours," "winds that are 
itinerant. " 

It may be remembered that the aerial spirits were specially 
described in the Anatomy as causing tempests in which they tear 
oaks, fire steeples, cause sickness, shipwrecks, and inundations. 
A similar description is given in the History of Winds and of the 
Management of Ships. " Winds are like great waves of the air. 
. . . They may hloiv dotvn trees ; . . • they may likewise over- 
turn edifices ; but the more solid structures they cannot destroy, 
unless accompanied by earthquakes. Sometimes they hurl down 
avalanches from the mountains so as almost to bury the plains 
beneath them; sometimes they cause great inundations of water. " 

See how all these points are reproduced by Macbeth when he 
conjures the witches : 

Macb. I conjure you, by that which you profess, 
Howe'er you come to know it, answer mo : 
Though you untie the winds and let them fight 
Against the churches; though the yesty waves 
Confound aud swallow navigation up ; 
Though bladed corn bo lodged aud trees blown down ; 
Though castles topple on their warders' heads ; 
Though palaces and pyramids do slope 
Their heads to their foundations ; though the treasure 
Of nature's germens tumble altogether, 
Even till destruction sicken; answer mo 
To what I ask you. 2 

The meetings of the witches in every case derive their pictur- 
esqueness and colour from Bacon's notes " on the meetings of 
the winds together, which, if the winds be strong, produce vio- 

1 See Hist, of Winds, Sylva Sylvarum, aud the passage from the Anatomy, 
quoted ante. 

2 Macb. iv. i. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 249 

lent whirlwinds," and it is interesting to find that the hint for 
^^ the sound of battle in the air,'' and which is introduced as a 
portent in Julius Ccesar — 

• " The noise of battle hurtled in the air" l 

(and which, by the way, is also included in the notes of the 
Anatomist ^ " Counterfeit armies in the air, strange noises, 
sivorcls, etc.) — was originally taken from the poet Virgil, from 
whom, indeed, the idea of the meeting of the four witches, as 
of " the rushing together of the four tvincls, " may have been 
taken. 

" Virgil . . . was by no means ignorant of Natural Philosophy. " 
" At once the winds rush forth, the east, and south, and south- 
west laden with storms," 2 

And again: 

" I have seen all the baUles oftfte wuids meet together in the air." 3 

In the Tempest much of the fun and sprightliness of the ^lid- 
summer Night's Dream peeps out again, and the " gross matter " 
of prosaic scientific notes is again vapourized into ideas as light 
as the airs of the enchanted isle of which the poet-philosopher 
wrote. 

" Inquire," says the History, " into the nature of the winds, 
whether some are not /reef . . . What do wo ww^ams contribute 
to them ? " 

Prospero says to Ariel: " Thou shalt be free as mountain 
ivinds." 

" The poets," continues the History, " have feigned tliat the 
Kingdom of Sol was situated in subterranean dens and caverns, 
ivhere the tvinds are imprisoned, and whence they loere occasion- 
ally let loose. . . . The air ivill submit to some compression. . . . 
At Aber Barry there is a rocky cMff filled with holes, to which 
if a man apply his ear, he will hear sounds and murmurs." In 
Potosi are vents for hot blasts. " 

1 Jid. Cas. ii. 2. 2 ^neid, i. 85, quoted in Hist, of Winds. 3 Georgics, i. 318, 
and compare Macbeth, ii. 3, 55, 60. 



250 FRANCIS BACON 

Prospero reminds Ariel of his miserable condition as an im- 
prisoned bird under the control of the witch Sycorax, and of how 
he had to submit to painful compression, " venting his groans " 
for a dozen years. He threatens further punishment if Ariel, 
continues to murmur : 

Aud, for thou wast a spirit too delicate 

To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, 

Kefusing her grand hests, she did confine thee, 

133' liclp of her more potent ministers 

And in her most nnmitigable rage. 

Into a cloven pine; within which rift 

Imprison'd thou didst painfully remain 

A dozen years ; within which space she died 

Aud left thee there ; where thou didst vent thy groans 

As fast ^ mill-wheels strike. 



Thou best know'st 
What torment I did find thee in ; thy groans 
Did make wolves howl and penetrate the breasts 
Of ever angiy bears : it was a torment 

To lay upon the damn'd, which Sycorax , 

Could not again undo : it was mine art, 
When I arrived and heard thee, that made gape 
The pine and let thee out. 

Ari. I thank thee, master. 

Pr. If thou more murmur'st, I will rend an oak 
And peg thee in his knotty entrails till 
Thou hast howl'd away twelve winters.! 

Sooner than undergo any further compression Ariel asks par- 
don, aud promises to do his spiriting gently. Prospero then 
commands him to make a " version " of himself from air into 
water (a converse process to that performed by the witches). 

" Go, make thyself a nymph of the sea." 

" No wonder, " Bacon reflects, " that the nature of the winds 
is ranked amongst the things mysterious and concealed, when 
the power and nature of the air which the winds attend and 
serve is entirely unknown. . . . Inquire into the nature of the 



TemjKsf, i. 2. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY 251 

attendant winds, tbeir community, etc." This mysterious and 
concealed characteristic of the winds is hinted when Ariel dis- 
guises himself, and appears as a harpy. '* I and my felloivs,'''' he 
says, '' are ministers of fate," incapable of injury, "invulner- 
able. " 

The winds have " apower of conveying spiritual species, that is, 
sounds, radiations, and the like;" these Bacon would have 
inquired into. The excited imagination and uneasy conscience 
of Alonzo make him nervously impressionable, and able to 
recognise these spiritual sounds: 

Alo7i. Oh, it is monstrous, monstrous ! 

llethouglit the billows spoke and told me of it ; 
The winds did sing it to me, and the thunder. 
That deep and dreadful organ-pipe, pronounced 
The name of Prosper: it did bass my trespass. i 

A passage which, in gloomier and more tragic language, is 
echoed in Macbeth : 

An;I pity, like a naked new-born babe, 
Striding the blast, or heaven's cherubim, horsed 
Upon the sightless couriers of the air, 
Shall blow the horrid deed in every eye, 
That tears shall di'own the wind. 2 

The notes on the tremendous force of the winds are once more 
distilled into verse iu the Tempest, where, also, the gentler 
winds are described " driving on the tides and currents, soyyie- 
tirnes jyropelling , and sometimes flying from one another, as if in 
sport." These wind?, weak masters though they be, assist, 
Bacon says, iu promoting an " agitation " and " collision " 
amongst the violent winds, and " drive them along in ma'lfiiry." 
In other word^5, the tempest, raised by the attendant and min- 
istering winds, is combined with an earthquake, over which the 
winds have no control, but which the magician has caused by 
his art. 

1 Tempest, iii. 3. 

2 Mcichelh, i. 7. The last line seems to refer to Bacon's observation that 
'■^ showers rjenerally al/ui/ the winds, esjiecially if they he storm ijj" 



252 FRANCIS BACON 

See the lovely creation from these elements: 

Pros. Yo elves of hills, brooks, standing lakes and groves, 
And ye that on the sands with printless foot 
Do chase the ebbing Neptune and do fly him 
When ho comes back; you domi-puppets that 
By moonshine do the green-sour ringlets make. 
Whereof the ewe not bites, and you whose pastime 
Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice 
To hear the solemn curfew ; by whose aid, 
Weak masters though yo be, I have bedimm'd 
The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous winds. 
And 'twixt the green sea and the azured vault 
Set roaring war: to the dread rattling thunder 
Have I given fire and I'ifted Jove's stout oak 
With his own bolt ; the strong-based promontoiy 
Have I made shako, and bj' the spurs pluck'd up 
The pine and cedar : graves at my command 
Have waked their sleepers, oped, and let 'em forth 
By my so potent art. 

These lines give us hints of Bacon's curious " Experiments 
Touching the Rudiments of Plants, of Excrescences," etc. 
"Moss," he says, " cometh of moisture, " and is made of the 
sap of the tree " which is not so frank as to rise all the boughs, 
but tireth by the way and putteth out moss. " i A quaint idea ! 
full of that Paracelsiau notion of the spirits or souls of things, 
and very Baconian, too. Bacon thought that the winds had 
something to do with such growths, for trees are said to bear 
most moss that "stand bleak and upon the winds. " Next to 
moss he speaks of mushrooms, which he associates with moss, 
as being " likewise an imperfect plant." Mushrooms have two 
strange properties. " the one is, they yield so delicious a meat " 
(therefore they are deserving of the fairies' trouble in growing 
them); " the other, that they come up so hastily, and yet they are 
unsoivn " (and how could that be except they were sown by the 
fairies?). Like moss, " they come of moisture, and are windy, 
but the tvindlness is not sharp and griping;'^ they are, therefore, 
unlike " the green-sour ringlets " which the fairies make in the 

1 Nat. Hist. vi. S-IO. 



AND ms SECRET SOCIETY. 253 

moonlight (where, Bacon says, nothing ivill ripen), and which 
even the sheep will not eat, though sheep love mushrooms. 

The wind-fairies " rejoice to hear the solemn curfeiv. " This 
tells us that these are the south winds, ^^for the south tvind is 
the attendant of the night; it rises in tlie night, and blotvs 
stronger. " i 

The south and west winds, too, are " warm and moist, favour- 
able to plants, flowers, and all vegetation ; " hence the mush- 
rooms spring up quickly under their influence. 

But the north winds are " more potent ministers ; " with them 
occur '' thunder, lightning, and tornadoes, accompanied with 
cold and hail. "2 They are " unfriendly," and even destructive 
to vegetable life, and either " bind the flower on tM opening of it, 
or shalie it off."^ 

"The tyrannous breathing of the north 
Shakes all our buds from growing."* 

" Storms, " continues our observant naturalist, " when attended 
ivith clouds and fog, are very dangerous at sea." Prospero, 
therefore, to make his tempest the more terrible, " bedims the 
noontide sun," before calling forth the wiads and the thunder. ^ 

" The anniversary north winds " come "from the frozen sea, 
and the region about the Arctic Circle, where the ice and snow are 
not melted till the summer is far advanced." Prospero taunts 

Ariel : 

" Thou think'st it much to tread the oozo 
Of the salt deep, 

To run upon the sharp wind of the north 
When it is lalc'd with frost." 

The last lines seem to be suggested by the Latin entry in the 
Promus {^0. 1367): " Frig us adurit." 
The idea is repeated in Hamlet: 

" Frost itself as actively doth burn." 6 

1 Hist. Winds, 1, 2, 10, 12, etc., qualities and powers. 

2 Comp. Macb. i. 1, 2. Ham. v. 2, 97. 

3 lb. 21, 24. 4 Cymb. i. 4. 

5 Compare. 3Iach. i, 1, of the witches' storms. 

6 Hamlet, iii. 4. 



254 FRANCIS BACON 

The philosophic poet does uot forget to allude to the effects of 
" warm winds and moist airs in induciug putrefaction," and in 
"increasing pestilential diseases and catarrhs." Caliban's 
worst imprecation (which, by the way, personifies even dew iu 
true Paracelsian style) is this: 

" As wicked daw as e'er my mother brush'd 
"With raven's feather from unwholesome feu 
Drop on you both ! A sotUhwest blow on ye 
And Mister you all o^er." 

Prospero is equal to the occasion, and answers him in kind : 

"For this, be sure, thou shalt have cramps, 
Side stitches that shall pen thy breath up. 
. . . I'll rack thee with old cramps. 
Fill all thy bones with aches. " l 

Bacon's cogitations on winds, contagion, putrefaction, and the 
doctrines of the human body, of the biform figure of nature, 
and of the sensitive soul, are inextricably interwoven in the 
Shakespeare plays of the later period. It is not the intention of 
this book to enter deeply into anything; the aim is to excite 
interest, even opposition, if that will promote study, and at least 
to encourage our younger readers to believe that all is not yet 
known on any of these subjects, and that vast fields of delight- 
ful and profitable research lie open for them to explore, delve 
into, and cultivate. But in order to do this, it is quite certain 
that the tool absolutely indispensable is a knowledge of Bacon's 
works — not only of those little pithy essays which embody all 
that the ordinary reader conceives as Bacon's writings, exclusive 
of " exploded science," and law tracts and speeches, too dull to 
bo tackled. Let those who are of this mind take those very 
works and read them with the belief that they are the keys to 
all the great literature of the sixteenth and seventeenth 
centuries; the touchstones by which the authorship of other 
works may be tried; sketches for finished pictures or condensed 
editions of more casual and discursive works of Bacon's early 

1 Tempest, i. 2, and compare where Thersites curses Patroclus ( Troilus and 
Cretsida, v. 1), and where Marcius curses the Romans (C'oriol. i. 4, 30, etc.). 



uiXD HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 255 

days. Let them think that oven with regard to the Shalie- 
speare phiys only these Uttle-read scientific works of Bacon are 
invaluable, explaining or elucidating, as they so often do, the 
meaning or original idea of obscure passages, and often enabling 
the commentator to trace the thought to some author of 
antiquity, or to some observation drawn from " nature's infinite 
book of secresy," in which, says the poet, "a little I can 
read. " 

The last scene in The Tempest shows us the philosopher 
returning from the " recreative " writing, which relieved the 
overflowing of a full brain, to the graver labours and con- 
templations which drew Bacon to the retirement of his " full 
poor cell." Play-time was over, and "these things are but 
toys." 

" Our revels now are ended. These onr actors, 
As I foretold you, were all spirits and 
Are melted into air, into thin air: 
And, like the baseless fabric of this vision. 
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
The solemn temples, the gi-eat globe itself, 
Yea, all which it inherit, shall dissolve 
And, like this insubstantial pageant faded, 
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff 
As dreams are made on, and our little life 
Is rounded with a sleep. Sir, I am vex'd; 
Bear with my weakness ; my old brain istroublea; 
Be not disturb'd with my infirmity: 
If yon be pleased, retire into my cell 
And there repose: a turn or two I'U WRlt, 
To still my beating mind." 



CHAPTER IX. 

MASONRY. 

"If I mistake 
In those foundations whicli I build upon, 
The centre is not strong enough to bear 
A schoolboy's top." 

— Winter's Tale. 

ACCORDING to many books on Freemasonry, the " Rosicru- 
cians had no connection with the Masonic fraternity.'''' In 
the face of collective evidence to the contrary, it is very difiScult 
for non-Masonic people to credit the statement; it would rather 
seem as if the desire of Masonic writers to draw a hard and fast 
line between the two societies were confirmatory of hints dropped 
in certain books concerning schisms which, during the last two 
centuries, have occurred amongst the brethren or brotherhoods. 
Originally one and the same, alike in aims, alike in symbolic 
language, with similar traditions tracing back to similar origins, 
some, at least, of the members supposed to have constituted the 
Rosicrucian society actually were, we find, members of the Free- 
mason lodge. The only conspicuous difi'erences which appear to 
have existed three hundred years ago were: (1) That the Rosi- 
crucians were distinctly Christian and church people, and that 
the magnificent literature brought out under their auspices was 
all either religious or written with an elevating tendency, inva- 
riably loyal, patriotic, and unselfish. (2) That the society was 
imostentatious and retiring to such an extent as to gain the 
name of the Invisible Brotherhood. It laboured silently and 
secretly for the good of men, but not to be seen of men. It 
went not to church with brass bands and banners; neither did 
it assume magniloquent titles or garments and decorations 
of obsolete or grotesque quaintness. 

256 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 257 

The Rosicrucians were and are a powerful, but unobtrusive, 
Christian hterary society. The Freemasons are, we believe, 
the lower orders of the same; deists, but not necessarily Christ- 
ians; moral, but not necessarily religious; bent on benefiting 
the human race by all means humanitarian, and chiefly devot- 
ing themselves to the development of the practical side of life; 
to architecture, i)rinting, medicine, surgery, etc.; to the arts 
and crafts, the habitations, the recreations of the million. It is 
easy to see that, in the first instance, such societies might have 
worked as part of one system. Whether or not they continue 
in any degree so to work, we cannot positively say; but it seems to 
the mere looker-on as if, owce owe, the society divided, subdivided, 
and in its lower branches underwent such changes as to be not 
only divergent, but, at the present day, different in character 
and aim. We speak, hoping to be contradicted, and give, as an 
instance, that the Freemasonry of Germany seems to differ very 
much from that of the most respectable lodges of England, 
being in some cases not only not Christian, but not even deistic; 
on the contrary, persons professedly atheists are enrolled 
amongst its members, and this miserable degradation of the 
brotherhood has, we are told, unhappily extended to England 
and America. Need it be said that to atheism and irreligion 
is too frequently added the so-called socialism, which has, in 
these later days, done so much to stir up discontent where con- 
tent reigned, destroying order and respect for authority, and 
setting men by the ears who should be joined for mutual aid. 

Of course, this is the bad and dark side of the question; there is 
a very bright side, too, and researches (we cannot say inquiries, 
for they are fruitless) encourage us to hope that there are signs, 
either of the " drawing together " of opposite parties, for which 
Bacon so earnestly strove, or else that the much-suppressed 
Rosicrucians, the gallant little band who held together through 
all the stormy times of the Puritans, the civil wars, the Restora- 
tion, and the many subsequent troubles, are now rapidly multi- 
plying in number, increasing in power, and everywhere extending 
their beneficent operations. " By their fruits ye shall know 
them. " 



25S FRANCIS BACO]^ 

But all this is, after all, mere conjecture; it is only submitted 
as sucli in order that others may pin down these statements, 
proving or disproving them. Having no means of doing so, we 
fall back, for the present, upon our old plan of quoting " the 
best authorities," and when, as is frequently the case, these 
doctors disagree, readers will, perhaps, cross-examine them, and 
decide between them. 

Dr. Mackey is positive that the Rosicrucians have no connec- 
tion with the Masons. He is indignant that any one should 
doubt this. " Notwithstanding this fact, ^' says the Doctor (but 
bringing no proof of the fact), " Barnel, the most malignant of 
our revilers, with a characteristic spirit of misrepresentation, 
attempted to identify the two institutions. This is an error into 
which others might unwittingly fall, from confounding the Prince 
of Eose Croix, a Masonic degree somewhat similar in name, but 
entirely difl'erent in character. " Here, again, it is not explained 
how the writer has become so intimately acquainted with the 
characteristics of the Rosicrucians, seeing that he is not him- 
self an initiate of that brotherhood. He proceeds in the same 
strain of assertion, without proof: " The Rosicrucians do not 
derive their name, like Rose Croix Masons, from the rose and cross, 
for they have nothing to do with the rose, but with the Latin ros, 
dew, and crux, the cross, as a hieroglyphic of light. ... A 
Rosicrucian philosopher is one who, by the assistance of dew 
(previously explained as the most powerful solvent of gold) 
seeks for light, or the philosopher's stone. " i 

This author is evidently possessed with the notion that there is 
something rather discreditable in Rosicruciauism, for he con- 
cludes with an apology for having introduced the subject, which 
only a fear of the error into which Masons might unwittingly fall 
would, apparently, have induced him to touch upon. 

Another work of the same kind has a long article on Rosi- 
cruciauism, in which all the old traditions and errors are repeated: 
that the Rosy Cross brethren were alchemists; that their origin 
was of great antiquity, etc.; adding, also, other errors, namely, 

1 Lexicon of Freemasonry, A. G. Mackey, D. D. (Griffin & Co., Exeter St., 
Strand), 7th edition, 1883. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 259 

that " the fraternity seldom bad meetings together," and that 
" its corporate character was by no means marked. " The 
writer, who evidently takes a much more correct view of the 
aims of the society than his predecessor, yet adds this state- 
ment: '' The modern society of Roslcruciansis constituted upon 
a widely different basis than that of the parent society. While 
the adepts of former times were contented with the knowledge of 
their mutual obligations, and observed them as a matter of course 
and custom, the eighteenth century Rosicrucians forced the 
world to think that, for a time, they were not only the precursors 
of Masonry, but, in essentia, that body itself. This has led to many 
misconceptions. With Freemasonry the occult fratern ity has only 
this much to do, i. e., that some nf the Bosicrucians were also Free- 
masons; and this idea was strengthened by the fact that a por- 
tion of the curriculum of a Rosicrucian consisted in theosophy; 
these bodies had, however, no other substantial connective ties. 
In fact. Freemasons have never actually laid claim to the pos- 
session of alchymical secrets. Starting from a defiDite legend — 
that of the building of Solomon's ttsmple — they have merely 
moralised on life, death, and the resurrection." But this, we 
know, is the same detiuite legend from which the Rosicrucians 
started, and they moralised after the same fashion, and in the 
same strictly Baconian manner, metaphorically and by analogy; 
or, as our author here formidably puts it, " correspondentially 
with the increase and decrease and the palingenesia of nature. " 
He pays a proper tribute to the superiority of the Rosicrucians 
over the Freemasons when he says that, as the science of mathe- 
matics contains the rude germs of things, and the science of 
words comprehends the application of these forms and intel- 
lectual purification, so " the Rosicrucian doctrine specifically 
pointed out the uses and inter-relations between the qualities 
and substances in nature, although their enlarged ideas admit- 
ted of a moral survey. The Freemasons, ivhile they have de- 
served the esteem of mankind for charity and works of love, have 
never accomplished, and, hy their inherent sphere of operation, 
never can accomplish, tvhat these isolated students effected.^' 
But, although the extent and precise nature of the connec- 



2G0 FRANCIS BACON 

tion between the two societies may not be accurately definable ; 
though, indeed, it may be unknown, excepting to a select few, 
in the very highest degree of initiatitm, yet, the ceremo- 
nies and symbols of this degree of Prince Rouge Croix approach 
more nearly to those of the Rosy Cross Brotherhood than they 
do even to other degrees of their own Masonic lodges. For the 
Bose Croix alone, of all the degrees in Masonry, is said by " the 
best authorities" to be "eminently a Christian degree, "and 
hence unattainable by an immense number of Masons. We 
observe, moreover, that the " monk " mentioned by the Masonic 
writer whom we are about to cite is none other than our old 
friend Johann Valentin Andreas, the formerly accredited author 
of the " Chemical Marriage of Christian Rosenkreuz," which 
we now find to have been written by Francis Bacon at the age 
of fifteen. 

It will also be observed in the following extracts that Bagon 
attributes to Andreas the same motive for inaugurating the 
secret society as that which chiefly influenced Bacon, the grief, 
namely, which he felt at the loss of truth through vain disputes 
and pedantic pride. Clavel, as we shall see, adds another thread 
to strengthen the evidence wliich we have collected to show 
that, whilst on the one hand the Rosicrucians were bound in 
every way to oppose the bigotry and superstition of the Church 
of Rome, and the anti-Christian pretences of the pope to infal- 
libility, yet it was not the Church of Rome, or its chief head or 
pope, against which the Rosy Cross brothers were militant; it 
was against the errors, the bigotry and superstition which that 
church indulged in; against the ignorance and darkness in which 
the mass of its members were, intentionally kept by its priest- 
hood. The highly cultivated and sometimes heavenly-minded 
members of the Society of Jesus must doubtless have often had 
reason to share the distress attributed to the monk Andreas, 
and we think that it will probably be found that the Rosy Cross 
brethren did, in fact, obtain great, though secret, help from the 
more liberal amongst the Jesuit communities. 

Ragon, in his treatise entitled Orthodoxie Magonnique, at- 
tributes the origin of the Eigliteenth Degree, or the " Sovereign 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 261 

Prince of Rose-Croix Heredom," to a pious monk named John 
Valentine Andreas, who flourished in the early part of the seven- 
teenth century, and who wrote, amongst other works, two trea- 
tises, one entitled Judicorum dc Fraternitate B. C, the other 
Noces Chimiques de Bozen Crutz. Ragon says that Andreas, 
grieved at seeing the principles of Christianity forgotten in idle 
and vain disputes, and that science was made suhservient to 
the pride of man, instead of contributing to his happiness, 
passed his days in devising what he supposed to be the most 
appropriate means of restoring each to its legitimate moral and 
benevolent tendency. Clavel absurdly affirms that the degree 
was founded by the Jesuits, for the purpose of counteracting 
the insidious attacks of free-thinkers upon the Romish faith, 
but he offers no evidence in support of his assertion; in fact, 
the Jesuits were the great enemies of Masonry, and, so far from 
supporting it, wrote treatises against the order. Many of the 
Rosicrucians were amongst the reformers of the age, and hence 
the hostility of the Romish Church. The almost universal rec- 
ognition of this degree in all countries would favour the theory 
of its being of long standing. 

Hurd, in his Treatise on Beligions, speaks of the Brethren of 
the Rose, ovNe Plus Ultra. " They were to declare openly that 
the Pope was Antichrist, and that the time would come when 
they should pull down his triple crown. . . . They claimed a 
right of naming their successors, and bequeathing to them all 
their privileges; to keep the devil in subjection; and that their 
fraternity could not be destroyed, because G-od always opposed 
an impenetrable cloud to screen them from their enemies." 

Bosetti, in his work on the Antipapal Spirit of Italy, asserts 
similar statements with regard to this and other societies con- 
nected with Freemasonry. " The ceremonies of the degree of the 
Bose- Croix are of the most imposing and impressive character, 
and it is eminently a Christian degree. Its ritual is remarkable 
for elegance of diction, while the symbolic teaching is not only 
pleasing, but consistent with the Christian faith, figuratively 
expressing the passage of man through the valley of the shadow 
of death, accompanied and sustained by the Masonic virtues — 



262 FRANCIS BACON 

faith, hope, and charity — and his final reception into the abode 
of light, life, and immortality. " i 

In the Rose-Croix transparency which is used during the cere- 
monies there is a cross of Calvary raised on three steps. On the 
cross is hung a crown of thorns with one large rose iu the c'eutre; 
two smaller crosses are on either side, with skulls and cross- 
bones. 

These symbols would alono be almost sufficient to satisfy our 
readers of the Christian character of that degree; but the jewel 
worn by the initiate is even more distinct in its announcement. 
This jewel includes all the most important symbols of the degree. 
It is a golden compass, extended on an arc to twenty-two and a 
half degrees, or the sixteenth part of a circle ; the head of the 
compass is surmounted by a crown with seven emerald points. 
The compass encloses a cross of Calvary formed of rubies or gar- 
nets, having in its centre a full-blown rose, whose stem twines 
round the lower limb of the cross. At the foot of the cross is a 
peUcan, wounding her breast to feed her young, which are in a 
nest beneath. 

On the reverse is an eagle instead of the pelican, and on the 
arc of the circle is engraved iu cipher the pass-word of the 
degree. 2 

Taliiug all things together, evidence favours the following 
conclusions with regard to the Rosicrucians and the Free- 
masons: 

1. That the aims of the Freemasons are (in a lower degree) 
much the same as those of the Rosicrucians. 

2. That the Masons begin by meeting on a common platform 
of humanity, and that they propose to raise their initiates step 
by step to a somewhat higher level. 

3. That their highest level is a kind of theosophy or deism, 
or at least that no more than this is required, excepting in the 



1 From the Freemason's Manual, J. How, K. T. 30°, pp. 272-3, 3rd edn. re- 
vised and illustrated. J. Hogg, London, 1881. 

2 How's Manual. For the meaning of the symbols above meutiojied, 899 
Q,nte, Emblems and Symbols, 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 263 

Rose Croix degree. i Here the Rosicrucians, therefore, seem to 
part from them, and to continue to mount. Whereas with the 
Freemasons Christ and his church are practically ignored, with 
the Rosicrucians Christianity is the life and soul of all that 
they have done, and are doing. Whereas the words " Christ, " 
"Church," "Religion," are almost banished from Freemason 
books, the mighty literature of the sixteenth and seventeenth 
centuries, and all that is good, great, and enduring in the 
present age, will probably be traced to the agency of this uni • 
versal church literary society. 

4. There seems to be no evidence that Freemasonry, in the 
present acceptation of the term, or as a mutual benefit society, 
existed before the middle of the sixteenth century. Church 
architects and builders, who had secrets of their own, and to 
whom, probably, we owe the magnificent structures which con- 
tinue to be models to our own time, were a trade guild and a 
church guild too. Their secrets were of the nature of the 
printer's secrets of the present day, not only for mutual use and 
protection, but also enclosing certain information to their craft, 
and, perhaps, to a select few, beyond that enchanted circle. 
But in no way can we say that these old builders filled the places 
of the ubiquitous, many-headed Freemasons. Moreover, if we 
mix them up with the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem, we 
still find ourselves linked with " the Holy Catholic Church " of 
our forefathers, to which the Rosicrucians were inseparably 
bound, but from which the Freemason writers seem most anx- 
ious to separate themselves. 

Hepworth Dixon 2 tells us that the scheme which Sir Nicholas 
Bacon presented to Henry VIII. for the endowment of a school 
of law, pohcy, and languages, in London, was, perhaps, the 



1 In connection with the Rose Croix degree, it may be observed, says the 
same authorit}-, that the initials of the Latin inscription placed on the cross, 
I. N. R. I., ro'pveseiitmg Jesus NazayeiiuSj Rex Jadieormn, were used hy the Rosi- 
crucians as the initials of their Hermetic Secrets — Ign^ Natura Renovatur 
Inteqra — " B_y fire. Nature is perfectly renewed." They also adopted them to 
express the names of their three elementaiy principles. Salt, Sulphur, and Mer- 
curr. by making the initials of the sentence, Igne Nitruin Roris Jnvenitv,T- 

? Story of Bacon's Life., p. 17. 



264 FBANCIS BACON 

original germ of the New Atlantis; the idea being transferred 
from statecraft to nature. It is, therefore, possible that Fran- 
cis Bacon, whose admiration and reverence for his father is very 
perceptible, may have considered that the foundation-stone of 
his Solomon's House was laid by Sir Nicholas. Nowhere can we 
find irrefutable statements or proofs that this society had any 
earher history. The professed records of its antiquity seem, like 
the similar records of the Rosicrucians, to be fictitious, mere 
shams, which cannot pass current amongst initiated readers; 
playing upon words, intended to convey to some members a 
knowledge or reminder of their true origin, whilst veiling it from 
the profane vulgar. 

The object of this concealment was probably the same as with 
the greater mysteries of the Rosicrucians, and two-fold. It 
enabled the society to work more freely, and unsuspected of dan- 
gerous or reforming aims. It also bestowed upon the fraternity 
a fictitious dignity and importance, by the glamour shed over its 
ceremonies of a supposed " antiquity," which, as Bacon shows, 
men are prone to adore; for in history, as in other matters, we 
often see " 'tis distance lends enchantment to the view. " More- 
over, Freemasonry frequently lay under the charge of irreligion, 
not always without cause. Yet the goodness of the institution 
should not be rashly maligned because of the wickedness or 
weakness of some of its members, and its " authorities " come 
forward to defend it from this charge. 

" Masonry is not an irreligious institution, but it assumes no 
special dogmatic form; it demands at the hands of its candidates 
a sincere and honest belief in a Creative Being, ever attentive to 
the honourable aspirations of those who seek Him in spirit and 
in truth, and it rejects with scorn those who would degrade the 
Contriver into a part of the contrivances, and thus would set 
bounds to the limitless Author of all Being." i 

The estimation in which the Masons hold themselves is so 
amusing to non-Masons, and their traditions concerning them- 
selves so quaint, that we cannot refrain from quoting a few 
passages: 

1 Royal Masonic Cyclopjedia. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 265 

" Freemasonry is undoubtedly the oldest society in the world, 
and it is not a political, but a religious society, strange as such 
an assertion must be to the uninitiat'Cd. Before letters were in- 
vented, the only means of teaching divine truths, and handing 
down divine traditions, was by symbols and signs. In that way, 
before the deluge, the people of the old world had the whole 
history of the creation, the fall of our first parents, etc., handed 
down to them by tradition in the primitive lodges, the serpent 
being a common symbol employed for the purpose then, as it has 
been since. After the deluge, the ark became one of the com- 
monest symbols, and the history of that event was thereby taught 
to the initiated. A lodge must have been in full ivorking order 
on the plains of Shinar during the lifetime of Noah: for, when 
the dispersion took place, lodges of a similar nature were estab- 
lished in every part of the world, though, probably, not for many 
years after the settlement of the emigrants in their new coun- 
tries. . . . They all, however, used the same symbols, and it 
has generally been admitted by scholars that they had one 
common origin. That common or igimvas Freemasonry. .. . Ac- 
cording to the traditions of our venerable society, Enoch ivas a 
very eminent Mason, and preserved the true name of God, which 
the Jews subsequently lost. The descendants of Abraham 
write it Jao; in the mysteries it was Om, but most commonly 
expressed in a triliteral form, Aum, as we learn from Wilkins' 
notes on Bhagvat Veta. Both in the genuine and spurious 
lodges the doctrine of a trinity in unity was taught. 

" The Mysteries, or spurious Masonic rites, were introduced 
into India by Brahma; into Egypt by Thoth; into China and 
Japan by Buddha; into Persia by Zeradusht, i. e., Zoroaster; into 
Greece by Melampus, according to Herodotus, ii. 4, or by Cad- 
mus, according to Epiphanius; into Boetia by Prometheus; into 
Samothrace by Dardanus; into Crete by Minos; into Athens by 
Erectheus; into Thrace by Orpheus; into Italy by Pelasgis; into 
Gaul and liritain by Gomer; into Scandinavia by Odin; into 
Mexico by Vitziphtzli (Purch. viii. 10); and into Peru by Manco 
Capac. " 1 

There is no date to the little tract at the British Museum from 
which these extracts are made,_ but it seems to be of recent pro- 
duction, and continues throughout in the same strain, assuming 
that because ancient symbols are introduced into Masonic lan- 



1 Freemasomy: An Address. Bro, J. Milaor, M. A., F. R. G. S. Loud.: Simp- 
kiu, Marshall 4 Co, 



266 FRANCIS BA CON 

guage and ceremonies, therefore Masonry is of extremest anti- 
quity. 

This same line of argument is adopted in many books wliicli 
seem to be of Freemason extraction, and in some of the 
modern anti-Christian works on Buddhism and " Theosophy. " 
These go farther still, maintaining not only the superior antiq- 
uity, but the superior beauty and value of the religions o^ India 
and Arabia, which, well suited as they doubtless were to the 
rude or ignorant minds which they were to impress, can only be 
regarded by Christians as gropings before daylight, or as the 
altars erected by ignorant but well-meaning worshippers of the 
unknown God. 

In the ancient mysteries, all sorts of uncomfortable methods 
were resorted to in order to^test the nerves and constancy of the 
initiate. He was made suddenly to see great lights which were 
as suddenly eclipsed, leaving him plunged in total darkness. 
Terrible sounds and sights were in succession forced upon him. 
Thunder and lightning, visions of hideous monsters and horri- 
ble objects were designed to fill him with awe and consternation. 
Finally he was restored to daylight, and to a delightful calm in 
a lovely garden, where music and dancing revived his spirits, 
and, perhaps, charmed him the more by reason of all the horrors 
to which he had been subjected. It seems to have been held as 
a crime, punishable only by death, for a man to reveal what he 
had seen in these mysteries, which for ages were kept secret. 
But, as with the somewhat similar ordeals which are said to be 
imposed upon Masonic initiates, the secrets which now seem to 
us foolish, and almost cruel, have leaked out by some means or 
another. In the present day such things appear to be anachron- 
isms, and profane rather than impressive. Nevertheless, they 
would, doubtless, have an eftect on weak nerves, and may pos- 
sibly aid in deterring the lower orders of initiates from reveahng 
these secrets, or others of greater importance. 

In all cases initiation represents death, and a renaissance or 
renovation, a new birth, not a resurrection from the dead. " In 
the British mysteries, the noviciate passed the River of Death in 
the boat of G-aranhir, the Charon of antiquity (the boat typified 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 267 

the corporal body) ; and before he could be admitted to this 
privilege, it was requisite that he should be mystically buried, 
as well as mystically dead, which is implied in the ancient Greeli 
formulary, ' I was covered in the bed,' the body being a sort of 
grave or bed of the spirit. " i With the Freemasons, this sym- 
bolic death and burial is or was initiated by the ceremony of 
putting the noviciate into a coffin and covering him with a pall. 
We have heard, but cannot answer for the fact, of a young man 
who fainted under this " nerve test." It is hard to conceive 
that such things should be done in civilised countries at the 
present hour, and if it be true that they are yet practiced, it 
must be that vows taken by the initiates bind them to continue 
a system which, at its first iuvention, had some use in conveying 
certain instruction to very rude minds, incapable of otherwise 
receiving it. 

The earliest Eosicrucian documents do not enforce the special 
doctrines of any church. The later documents are, however, 
professedly Christian, We know that Bacon ''was religious; 
. . . well able to render a reason of the hope which was in him; " 
that he conformed to the ordinances of the Christian religion ; '- 
that he died in the communion of the Church of England; aud 
the thought suggests itself that, during the period of his life 
when he was " running through the whole round " of the 
ancient philosophies (a terrible and unsettling process to young, 
excitable minds) — at that time, when his ardent soul was 
striving after definite truth, and trying to free itself from the 
clouds of error, bigotry, and superstition which obscured it — he 
may have found himself, like Malvolio, " more puzzled than the 
Egyptians in their fog. " Besides this, the quarrels and divission 
on religious questions sorely disturbed him. He could not 
believe in the religion of men who hated each other, who would 
" dash the first table against the second, and who would so act 
as Christians as to make us forget that they are men. " Such 



1 The Bool- of God, vol. ii. p. 125, quoting from Davics' Mythology of the 
Druids, p. 3;)2/ 

2 Lift" of Bacon, by his Chaplain aud Secretaiy, p. 14. See ante, Bacon's 
character. 



268 FBANCIS BACON 

divisions, he says, " were evils unknown to the heathen; " yet he 
hved in the very midst of such divisions. He was eleven years 
old at the time of the Massacre of St. Bartholomew, when 60,000 
Huguenots or Protestants were butchered by the order of 
Charles IX. and his mother, the victims including Admiral de 
Coligny, one of the most virtuous men that France possessed, 
and the mainstay of the Protestant cause. He was a child 
when the tyranny and barbarity of the Inquisition was in full 
force, and for thirty-one years of his life he was witness to the 
scenes of intolerable cruelty and iniquity which were perpetrated 
under the name of religion by the Spanish Tiberius, Philip II., 
not only in his own country and amongst the unhappy Moors, 
but, almost worse, in Flanders or the Netherlands, where the 
miserable Protestants, at first patient under the extravagant 
oppression to which they were subjected, at last rebelled, and, 
at the sight of the tribunals of the Inquisition erected in their 
principal cities, forgot their own weakness, and, impelled by 
rage and fury, pulled down churches, subverted altars, and 
obliged the clergy to fly. The atrocities which followed, the 
execrable cruelties which were committed, and the detestation of 
the papists which was inspired in the formerly peaceable 
Flemings, are matters of history. No one will read Motley's 
graphic narrative of the events of this time, and marvel that a 
thoughtful man, witnessing such scenes, should be led to doubt 
if religion, if Christianity, in whose name such deeds of darkness 
were performed, could be a true thing ^. 

In the Essay of Unity, Bacon speaks of " Lucretius, the poet, 
who, when he beheld the act of Agamemnon, that could endure 
the sacrificing of his own daughter, exclaimed: ' Could religion 
prompt to deeds so dreadful?' What would he have said if he 
had known of the massacre in France, or the powder treason in 
England? He would have been seven times more epicure and 
atheist than he was. " 

But Bacon seems to have said to himself: " Since men thus 
quarrel over their religious opinions, I will seek for some ground 
upon which all mankind may meet in common consent and har- 
mony. All men who Uave any claim to intelligence and goodness 



AND HIS SECHET SOCIETY. 269 

acknowledge the existence of a God, au all- wise, all-powerful 
Being, to whom we must render an account of ourselves. Let 
us, then, leave quarrelling and controversies, and meet as men 
and brethren on this wide platform of belief in a God, and desire 
to benefit each other. " Some such sentiment seems certainly to 
have been in the mind of the founder of Masonry, and, perhaps, 
the method adopted in rude times for enlisting the sympathies 
of the majority of ignorant but iatelligent persons of various 
nationalities and creeds was the best that could be devised. 
There is no doubt that to the great society of the Freemasons 
we owe a vast debt of gratitude, for the many humanitarian 
works which they have inaugurated; for the many " fair houses, " 
for purposes of charity and education, which they have reared; 
for many good lessons in morality and self-control which they 
have systematically endeavoured to teach. And yet, although 
the society was founded expressly to uphold order, and respect 
for authority, as well as to promote learning and works of charity; 
though its members were to consist of '' men who are not only 
true patriots and loi/al subjects, but the patrons of science and the 
friends of all mankind, " there is reason to believe that Bacon 
found the rules of the society, and the doctrines of pure Deism, 
insufficient to ensure either patriotism or loyalty; insufficient to 
ensure the attainment of the highest truth, or of the greatest 
good to the greatest number. 

It is clear that he himself could not endure to remain in this 
low grouud, and he mounted, as we have seen, into the clearest 
and sublimest heights to which the human intelligence or the 
human spirit is permitted to penetrate. Not so all his followers, 
if the scanty gleanings which we have been able to make in this 
field are of any value. There is reason to think that more than 
once the harmony of the Masonic brethren has been broken; 
selfishness, ambition, and other ills which frail humanity is heir 
to, and which will not be checljed by any code of human laws, 
by morality, however philosophical; by philanthropy, however 
well meaning, seem to have crept in, creating quarrels and rup- 
tures, and, doubtless, in every case, fresh divergence from the 
original scheme. 



270 FRANCIS BACON 

If we read ariglit some ambiguous narratives in books which 
are nothing if not mystical, and which bear marlis of being of 
Masonic origin, there have been, not only quarrels, but faithless 
members in the society, who, instead of *' handing down the 
lamp " which had been consigned to their charge — instead of 
merely preserving or publishing, in due season, some work, not 
their oivn, have clung to it, claimed it, and endeavoured to profit by 
it. Is that true, which such hints in books, endorsed by verbal 
information, incline us to believe, namely, that the Masons are 
no longer a^Z " true patriots and loyal subjects," and that, in 
some countries, at least, " mutual toleration in matters of specu- 
lative opinion and belief " is no longer one of the " valuable 
characteristics of the craft"? These, joining to their disrespect for 
religion the kindred disrespect for any authority except their 
own, are applying themselves to degrade, if possible to demol- 
ish, all forms of church worship, defacing the Beauty of Holiness, 
reducing Christianity to Humanitarianism, and landing their 
followers in a cold agnosticism, or a worse spirit of antagonism 
to Christianity. 

The causes of atheism are. Bacon says, " divisions in religion, 
scandal of priests, custom of profane scoffing in holy matters, 
which doth little by little deface the reverence of religion ; and, 
lastly, learned times with peace and prosperity; for troubles and 
adversities do more bow men's minds to religion. They that 
deny a God, destroy man's nobility; for certainly man is of kin to 
the beasts by his body ; and if he be not of kin to God by his 
spirit he is a base and ignoble creature. It destroys, likewise, 
magnanimity and the raising of human nature, . . . and as athe- 
ism is in all respects hateful, so in this, that it depriveth human 
nature of the means to exalt itself above human frailty, "i 
Bacon's axiom, " Thought is free," expressed something very 
different from irreverent license of thought ; neither did he advo- 
cate the idea that " the raising of human nature " was to be 
achieved by disregard of the Powers that be. The majority of 
right-minded and loyal Masons are, doubtless, of his opinion, and 

1 Essay Of Atheism, 



AND HIS SECnET SOCIETY. 271 

it is suggested tliattlie large and increasing number of the mem- 
bers of the Rose-Croix degree may be a tacit protest against the 
irreligious tendencies of some of the other lodges, i It is possi- 
ble that Bacon perceived the beginnings of such deviations as 
have been indicated, and that his foresight as to the ultimate 
issue caused him to make the Rosy Cross the highest and most 
secret degree, the members forming a community of the ablest 
and most earnest and influential Christians \n the Masonic ranks. 

Since the statements and opinions of Masonic writers differ, it 
is, of course, impossible for a non-Mason to obtain information 
so accurate as to be incapable of contradiction or refutation. 
These remarks, therefore, are merely intended to form a basis 
for further inquiries and researches. No one book must be taken 
as an absolute authority; for if anything is made plain to the 
uninitiated student of Masonic literature, it is that comparatively 
few Masons know much about the true origin and aims of their 
own society. Books ostensibly published for the purpose of giv- 
ing information consist, for the most part, of names of persons 
and lodges, of places and orders, with very scanty notices on any 
subject which will not be found discussed in ordinary cycloptedias. 
The Masonic books are palpably constructed so as to disclose 
nothing of any value; some contradict others, and doubtless they 
are only intended to be thoroughly useful to those who have 
other and verbal information imparted to them. 

Under these circumstances, the most helpful plan which can 
be adopted seems to be to ignore recent utterances, and to give 
transcripts from a book whose ninth edition was published nearly 
a hundred years ago, and which is still continually referred to 
in the chief Masonic manuals. The subject is " The Idea of 
Masonry, "2 its tenets, objects, and practical works, the place 



1 Tn 1881 there were eightr-fiTe Rose Croix chapters on the roll, and the 
members numbered nearly 4,000. 

2 " Tlhi.ttrations of Masonry,'" by Wm. Preston, Past Master of the Lodge ot 
Antiquity, 9th edn., with considerable additions. London: Wilkie, 57 Paternos- 
ter Row, 1796. In the volume before us (carefully preserved as it has been) 
abundant ^' marks" of six or seven different kinds ass)ire us that the publishei-s 
and printers — yes, and the readers themselves — have wished to draw especial 
attention to it as a work of importance to their society. 



272 FRANCIS BACON 

where and the person by whom it was first introduced into 
England. The reader will judgefor himself as to how much or, 
how little of the historical part he will credit; but he may ob- 
serve that this author tells us nothing of Masonic lodges before 
the deluge, or on the plains of Shinar. 

The Illustrations are in six " books," of which the first dis- 
plays the excellence of Masonry, and deals with reflections on 
the symmetry and proportion perceptible in the works of nature, 
and on the harmony and affection amongst other species of 
things. 

" Whoever attentively observes the objects which surround 
him, will find abundant reason to admire the works of nature, 
and to adore the Being who directs such wonderful operations. 
He will be convinced that infinite wisdom could alone design, 
and infinite power finish, such amazing works. . . . Besides the 
symmetry, good order, and proportion which appear in all the 
works of creation, something farther attracts the reflecting mind 
and draws its attention nearer to the Divinity — the universal 
harmony and affection among the d'ff"erent species of beings of 
every rank and denomination. These are the cements of the 
rational world, and by these alone it subsists. When they cease 
nature must be dissolved, and man, the image of his Maimer, and 
the chief of His works, be overwhelmed in the general chaos. " 

As to the origin of Masonry, we are told that we may trace its 
foundations from the beginning of the world. " Ever since sym- 
metry began and harmony displayed lier charms, our order has 
a being." It almost seems as if the idea of the extreme antiq- 
uity of the order was encouraged by the frequent use of quibbles 
on the word order. Bacon's aim was to reduce knowledge and all 
else to a method, or order, for " order is heaven's first law."' 
In the dark and rude ages of the world knowledge was with- 
held from our forefathers incapable of receiving it. i Masonry 
then diff"used its influence, science was gradually unveiled, arts 
arose, civilization took place, and the progress of knowledge 
and philosophy gradually dispelled the gloom of ignorance 2 and 
barbarism. 

1 Compare with Preston's lUustratiuns of Masonry, section iii, Bacon's con- 
cluding paragraphs in his preface to the Wisdom of the Ancients. 

2 " There is no darkness Imt ignorance.''' [Twelfth yii/ht, iv. 2.) 



AND ms SECRET SOCIETY. 278 

Next we read of the advantages of secresy, and of a system of 
secret signs carefully preserved among the ifraternity. A uni- 
versal language is thus formed, and contributes to the union, in 
an indissoluble bond of affection and mutual interest, of men of 
the most opposite tenets, of the most distant countries, and of 
the most contrary opinions. The Chinese, the wild Arab, the 
American savage, will embrace a brother Briton, and will find a 
stronger obligation than even the common tie of humanity to 
induce him to kind and friendly offices. 

" As all religions teach morality, if a brother is found to act 
the part of a truly moral man his private speculative opinions 
are left to God and himself. " 

" Masonry, " we are told, is a term which expresses a double 
meaning, the tvork, that is, and the abstract ideas of which that 
work is the symbol or type. Masonry passes under two denom- 
inations, operative and speculative, 

" By the former we allude to a proper application of the use- 
ful rules of .architecture, whence a structure derives figure, 
strength, and beauty, and whence result a due proportion and a 
just correspondence in all its parts. By the latter we learn to 
subdue the passions, act upon the square, keep a tongue of good 
report, maintain secresy, and practice charity. 

" Speculative Masonry is so far interwoven with religion as to 
lay us under the strongest obligations to pay that rational hom- 
age to the Deity which at once constitutes our duty and our 
happiness. It leads the contemplative to review with reverence 
and admiration the glorious works of creation, and inspires 
them with the most lofty ideas of the perfections of the divine 
Creator. 

" Operative Masonry furnishes us, indeed, with dwellings and 
sheltering edifices, and demonstrates how much can be done for 
the benefit of man by science and industry. Yet the lapse of 
time and the ruthless hand of ignorance, and the devastations 
of war, have laid tvaste and destroyed many valuable monuments 
of antiquity on which the utmost exertions of human genius have 
been employed. Even the Temple of Solomon, so spacious and 
magnificent, and constructed by so many celebrated artists, 
escaped not the unsparing ravages of barbaric force. " 

We are arrested by the very Baconian and Shakespearian 



274 PBAnCtS BACON 

sentiments, and the combination of words in which they are 
expressed. 

" Not marble, nor the gilded monuments 
Of princes, shall outlive this powerful rhyme ; 

When wasteful xoar shall statues overturn, 

And broils root out the work of masonry. 

Nor Mars his sword, nor war's quick fire shall burn 

The living record of your memory, l 

'' The monuments of wit survive the monuments of power, " 
etc. 2 

" We see, then, how far the monuments of wit and learning 
are more durable than the monuments of power or of the hands. 
For have not the verses of Homer continued twenty-five hundred 
years or more, without the loss of a syllable or letter; during 
which time infinite palaces, temples, castles, cities, have been 
decayed and demolished. . . . But the images of men's wits and 
knowledges remain in books, exempted from the wrong of time, 
and capable of perpetual renovation. " 3 

Throughout the Masonic books the reader is led to suppose 
that the survival and transmission of Freemasonry is the mat- 
ter of extremest importance. Read, however, by the light of 
Bacon, we perceive that the whole object is to get possession of 
the rude and ignorant, and, by working upon their innate vanity — 
or shall we say their self-respect? — to draw them on to works of 
mutual benefit, and to raise them by gentle stages up the steps 
of knowledge and morality under the impression that their supe- 
riority consists chiefly in the possession of some great and 
mysterious secret. The lower orders are indeed the stepping- 
stones for the cleverer and more helpful higher iuitiates. The 
subscriptions of the vast number of members are of immense 
value in promoting many useful works, which, without some such 
organisation, would never have been attempted; and doubtless 
the members of every degree share in the pleasure and pride 

1 Sonnet Iv. Compare sonnets Ixxxi, Ixiv, Ixv, cvii. 

2 Device of Philantia, Eermit's Sp. 

3 Advt. of L. i. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 275 

which Freemasons evidently take iu the numerous charitable 
works which they have inaugurated and liberally supported. 
Yet it is much to be doubted if the lower. orders of Masons 
either guess at their own origin, or perceive that the true aim 
of the society is to raise the level of patriotism and morality until 
the former may fulfil Heaven's first law of universal order and 
harmonious obedience to earthly authority, and the latter shall 
lift man above the fiats of mere worldly wisdom and morality 
to the sublime heights of divinity or religion, to heights, in- 
deed, to which probably many Freemasons do not aspire, but are 
content to live in the valley. , 

" The attentive ear," says the Masonic Manual, " receives the 
soul from the instructive tongue, and the sacred mysteries are 
safely lodged in the repository of faithful breasts. Tools and 
implements the most expressive! [sic] are selected by the fra- 
ternity, to imprint on the memory serious truths ; and thus the 
excellent tenets of the institution are transmitted unimpaired, 
under circumstances precarious and adverse, through a succes- 
sion of ages. " 

The fraternity is said to consist of three classes, each with 
distinct privileges. Honour and probity are recommendations 
to the first class. Diligence, assiduity, and application are 
qualifications for the second class, in which is given an accurate 
elucidation of science, both in theory and practice. The third 
class is restricted to a selected few, whom truth and fidelity have 
distinguished, whom years and experience have improved, and 
whom merit and abilities have entitled to preferment. We 
should expect this class to be initiated into some of the mysteries 
of the printing-house, and of the collating-room, and the 
ciphers, for, in the next section, the author enters into a dis- 
cussion of the objections raised to the secrets of Masonry, which, 
he says, are not mere trivialities, but " the keys to our treasure. " 
He exhorts his readers not to regard the mysteries or the cere- 
monials of the order as nominal and frivolous. Those who 
hurry through the degrees or stages, without considering the 
steps which they pursue, or without possessing a single qualifica- 
tion for the duties w^hich they undertake, are doing a positive 



276 FRAXCIS BACON' 

injury to the society which they profess to aid, and deriving no 
benefit themselves; for " the substance is lost in the shadow." 

Then conies an explanation of some of the causes why 
Masons have, from time to time, brought upon themselves dis- 
credit and censure. Tlio very "variety of members of which 
the society of Masons is composed, and the small number who 
are really conversant ivith the tenets of the institution," render 
it almost certain that some will transgress, and prove faithless 
to their calling. When mild endeavours to i-eform such persons 
are fruitless, they are expelled the lodge, as unfit members of 
the society. But r^o wise man will condemn a whole community 
on account of the errors of a few individuals. " Friendship and 
social delights cannot be the object of reproach, nor can that 
wisdom which hoary time has sanctified be subject to ridicule. 
Whoever attempts to censure what he does not comprehend, degrades 
himself; and the generous heart ivill always be led to pity the mis- 
takes of such ignorant presumption. " In the " charge, at the 
initiation into the first degree, " the initiate is enjoined never 
to suffer his zeal for the institution, however laudable, to lead 
him into argument with those who may ridicule it; " but rather 
extend your pity toward all ivho, through ignorance, contemn 
ivhat they never had an opportunity to comprehend." i 

Charity is next extolled as the chief of every social virtue, 
and the distinguishing characteristic of the order, and of the 
Deity himself. 2 

" The bounds of the greatest nation, or the most extensive 
empire, cannot circumscribe it. It is a Godlike disposition, . . 
since a mutual chain of dependence subsists throughout the 
animal creation. The whole human species are, therefore, 
proper objects of charity." 

Further : all kinds of men may, in their different spheres, prove 
useful; but the officers of a lodge in Freemasonry ought to be 
principally restricted to those " whose early years have been, dedi- 
cated to literary pursuits, or ivhose circumstances and situation in 

1 " Disparage iiot (he faith thou dost not know," (Midsuuiinor Night's Dream ) 
2 Seo Merchant of Venice, iv. 1, 193-7. 



AND HIS SECBET SOCIETY. 277 

life render them independent.'^ They should also be men of 
superior prudence and good address, with a tranquil, well- 
cultivated mind and retentive memory. But " he ivho tvishes to 
teach, must be content to learn." A self-sufficient, conceited 
person, however able, can, therefore, never be a good Mason. 
" Arrogance and presumption appear not on the one hand, or 
diffidence and inability on the other, but all unite in the same 
plan." 

The second book of Masonry gives an illustration of the cere- 
monies connected with the opening and closing of a lodge, in 
which account we seem to see a reflection of Bacon's cogitations 
on the means of ensuring help from worthy and capable men, 
who should prepare to guard the entrances and approaches to 
the Temple of Wisdom. In the first sentence note the use of his 
Promus entry, " Avenues. " i 

" Our care is first directed to the external avenues of the lodge, 
and the proper officers, whose province it is, to discharge that 
duty, execute the trust with fidelity." 2 

By certain mystic forms these officers intimate that it is safe 
for the ceremonies to proceed, or they detect impostors and 
unfit persons who must be excluded. The ceremonies are relig- 
ious, and intended not only to remind the master and brethren 
of their many duties, but also to inculcate a reverential awe of 
the Deity, that " the eye may be fixed on that object from whose 
radiant beams light only can be derived. " 

At the closing of the lodge, " each brother faithfully locks up 
the treasure which he has acquired in his own repository, and, 
pleased with his own reward, retires to enjoy and disseminate 
among the private circle of his friends the fruits of his labour 
and industry in the lodge. " This paragraph seems to imply 
that the brethren adopted Bacon's advice regarding the taking 
of notes, and that they habitually stored up their newly gained 
treasures of learning in order to add to the common fund, and 



1 Promus, 1432; and eomp. Montaigne Ess. "To Learn to Die"— Ed. Hazlitt, 
p. 76. 

2 Preston, p. 33. 



278 FEANCIS BACON 

to distribute them at a later period for the benefit of the world 
in general. 

We observe amongst other peculiarities in Rosicrucian books 
the large number of fly-leaves at one or both ends. These, how- 
ever, in the old volumes, have been in most instances cut out. 
Only one explanation of this singular circumstance seems satis- 
factory, namely, that the brethren, by Bacon's original instruc- 
tions, took notes of all that they heard or read, and that these 
fly-leaves, or note-books, were thus made the " repositories of 
treasure stored up, " so that nothing should be lost, but that 
ultimately all newly acquired learning should flow into the com- 
mon treasury. 

" No brother is supplanted, or put out of his work, if he be 
capableof filling it. All meekly receive their rewards . . . and 
never desert the master till the work is finished. . . . In a lodge 
Masons meet as members of the same family, and representa- 
tives, for the time being, of all the brethren throughout the 
world. All prejudices, therefore, on account of religion, coun- 
try, or private opinion, are removed. " 

In the charge delivered at the closing of the lodge, the Masons 
are instructed to be " very cautious in your words and carriage, 
that the most penetrating stranger may not discover or find out 
what is not proper to he intimated, and, if necessary, you are to 
ivaive a discourse,'^ and manage it prudently, for the honour of 
the fraternity. ... If a stranger apply . . . beware of giving 
him any secret hints of knowledge." The charge ends with 
renewed exhortations to " brotherly love, the foundation and 
cap-stone, the cement and glory of this ancient fraternity. " 

In the first Masonic "lecture," "virtue is painted in the 
most beautijul colours,''^ and the duties of morality are strictly 
enforced. In it the Masons are prepared for " a regular advance- 
ment in knowledge and philosophy, and these are imprinted on 
the memory by lively and sensible images, the lecture being suited 
to all capacities, and necessary to be known by every person 
who would wish to rank as a Mason. " 



1 This iajuDotiou is excellently complied with, and is, no doubt, a chief ob- 
struction to nou-Masons in the attainment of information. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 279 

Unhappily for the uninitiated, the author can annex to this 
remark no explanation consistent with the rules of Masonry, but 
refers " the more inquisitive to our regular assemblies for further 
instruction. " So, " out goes the candle, and we are left dark- 
ling; " yet we need not despair, but may beUeve that by a due 
study of Bacon's Colours of Good and Evil (and other works based 
upon it), his Advancement of Learning* and his emblematic and 
metaphoric language, we may furnish ourselves with all the 
useful knowledge which the Masonic initiates will gain by their 
Ifecture on the colours of virtue, the advancement of philosophy, 
and the images by which the novices are instructed. 

Just as the Rosicrucians in The New Atlantis, and elsewhere, 
are commanded to dispense their medicines gratis, so Masons 
are called upon solemnly to declare themselves uninfluenced by 
mercenary motives, but prompted by a desire for knowledge, and 
a sincere wish of being serviceable to their fellow-creatures. 

They pledge themselves to study the Bible, to consider it as 
the unerring standard of truth and justice, and to regulate 
their lives according to its diviue precepts. The three great 
moral duties to be observed are: (1) To God, by reverence and 
submission. to His Will; (2) To your neighbour, by "acting 
on the square," and by unselfishness in dealing with him; 
(3) " To yourself, by avoiding irregularity and intemperance, 
which might impair gour faculties and debase the dignity of your 
profession." 

This section concludes with another exhortation to secresy 
and caution in recommending new initiates. Next we come to 
a page of observations on the origin and advantages of hiero- 
glyphical instruction, a subject which, in view of Bacon's instruc- 
tions on this very subject, and the evidently close relation which 
his remarks bear to the illustrations and ornaments of the books 
published during his life, and (with various modifications) from 
that time till now, possesses for the inquirer a strong attraction 
and interest. 

Since nothing can be more noble than the pursuit of virtue, 
nor any motive more alluring than the practice of justice, " what 
instruction," we are asked, '^ can be more beneficial than an 



280 FEANCIS BACON 

accurate elucidation of those symbols tvhich tend to embellish and 
adorn the mindf Everything that strikes the eye more immedi- 
ately engages the attention, and imprints on the memory serious 
and solemn truths. Hence, Masons have universally adopted the 
plan of incidcating the tenets of their order by typical figures and 
allegorical emblems, to prevent their mysteries from descending to 
the familiar reach of inattentive and unprepared novices, from 
tvhom they might not receive due veneration. It is well known 
that the usages and customs of the Masons have ever corre- 
sponded with those of the ancient Egyptians, to which they 
bear a near affinity. These philosophers, unwilling to expose 
their mysteries to vulgar eyes, concealed their particular tenets 
and principles of polity under hieroglyphical figures, and ex- 
pressed their notions of government by signs and symbols, which 
they communicated to their Magi alone, who were bound by oath 
not to reveal them. Pythagoras seems to have established his 
system on a similar plan, and many orders of a more recent 
date have copied the example. Every character, figure, and 
emblem, depicted in a lodge, has a moral tendency, and tends to 
inculcate the practice of virtue. " 

Here, as will be seen by and by, when we come to emblems and 
hieroglyphic pictures, Freemasons are again adopting Bacon's 
ideas and doctrines, and usiug his words, though their charm is 
lost by dilution and paraphrase. No addition or alteration seems 
to improve either his phraseology or his ideas; usually the copyists 
limp after him in " what imitation they can borrow;" but even 
where they most craftily prick in, or transfer to their own work 
his beauties of language and quaint conceits, it is still easy to 
distinguish the original from the imitation, the pearls from the 
beads, and at least one-third of Preston^s Illustrations is, we 
believe, taken directly from Bacon, perhaps originally dictated 
by him. 

The charge at initiation into the second degree again enforces 
the study of the liberal arts, " especially of geometry, the basis 
of our art; geometry and Masonry, originally synonymous terms, 
being of a divine and moral nature, which, while it proves the 
wonderful properties of nature, demonstrates the more important 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 281 

truths of morality. " It will readily be perceived that here is a 
double meauiug; for geometry does not really teach morality, aud 
uo one can believe that the terms geometry and Masonry were 
ever truly synonymous. The next instructions, concerning the 
five orders of architecture, further confirm the notion that the 
teaching is symbolic, and that it requires verbal elucidation. 
The information on architecture is of the most elementary char- 
acter, and converts itself, at the end of the second page, into 
" an analysis of the human faculties," where we are taught to 
consider the five senses as the gifts of nature, " the channels by 
which knowledge is conveyed. " 

In the treatment of the senses of hearing, seeing, and feeling,! 
the analogies between the bodily organs aud the spiritual facul- 
ties are ever present to the writer. It is " the ear, the gate of 
the understanding; the eije, the gate of the aflections; " 2 the 
touch of nature which makes the whole world kin, which we 
perceive shadowed in the architectural instructions of Masonry. 

When these topics are proposed in Masonic assemblies, the 
brethren " are not confined to any peculiar mode of explana- 
tion," which probably means that the eye maybe interpreted 
the eye of the mind, as well as of the body; that the ear, in 
the same way, may be intellectual or physical; that the Masonic 
signs may be palpable to the eye by symbols, gestures, or marks 
in printing, engraving, and sculptures, or sensible (as they 
have been found) to the touch, in the pages or edges of books; 
that the contents of the books themselves may be tasted, chewed, 
and swallowed, or their secrets smelt out by discerning initiates. 
For, though " the senses are the gifts of nature, reason, properly 
employed, confirms the documents of nature, which are always 
true and wholesome; she distinguishes the good from the bad; 
rejects the last, and adheres to the first. Hearing is the sense 
by which we can best communicate to each other our thoughts 
and intentions, our purposes and desires, while our reason is 
capable of exerting its utmost power and energy. (The descrip- 

1 See " Sletaphors." Also of the book-marks, iu which uot ouly the sight, 
but the touch, is appealeil to. 

2 Promus, 1137, where are many Shakespeare references. 



282 FEANCIS BACON 

tiou of this sense seems to point to tlie verbal teaching of the 
Masons.) But the " sight is the noblest of all the senses, the 
organ is the masterpiece of Nature's work," and the large 
amount of symbols and metaphors which connect themselves 
with this sense show the important place which it occupies in 
Masonic symbolism. Then, by feeling, we distinguish the differ- 
ent qualities of bodies (or, it might be added, of sjnrits). They 
are hot or cold, hard or soft, rough or smooth, and have other 
qualities which are seen to be connected " hi/ some original prin- 
ciple of human nature which far transcends our inquiry." 
" Hast thou," says Prospero to Ariel — "hast thou, though a 
spirit, some touch, some feeling of their afflictions?" i Shakes- 
peare makes great use of the metaphor, " The inly touch of 
love. " 2 " A sweet touch, a quick venue of wit. " 3 " The most 
bitter touch of sorrow."* '' Touched with noble anger, "5 with 
pity, etc. No one cau doubt that Shakespeare, like Enoch, was 
a good Mason. 

Surely, too, tlie eye of the perceptive intellect, the ready ear for 
truth (in other words, the Will, which. Bacon says, rules 
thought, free as \i is), and the tender sympathy tchich is in touch 
with all created nature, are the three senses of hearing, seeing, 
and feeling, which are deemed particularly essential amongst 
Masons. 

Thenof smelling, " thatsenseby which we distinguish odours, " 
we recall " Ovidius Naso smelling out the odoriferous tlowers of 
fancy;" 6 the Fool's exposition of " why one's nose stands i' the 
middle on 's face, to keep one's eyes of either side 's nose; 
that zohat a man cannot smell out he may spy into,'' 7 with 
many other similar figures; of smelling out villainy, ^ at which 
" Heaven stops the nose;" ^ of the air and smell of the court; of 
calumny; of sin, offence and corruption; of mortality and Heaven's 
breath, i" Ariel's graphic description of the effect produced 

1 Temp. V. I. 2 T\v. Gen. Ver. ii. 7. 3 L. L. L. v. 1. 

4 All's Well, i. 1. 5 Leur, i. :5. 6 L. L. L. iv. 2. 

V Lear, i. 5. 8 Othello, v. 2. ' 9 lb. iv. 2. 

10 There are about fifty passages iu Shakespeare alone which illustrate this 
one idea. 



AND HIS SECEET SOCIETY. 283 

upon the varlets Trinculo, Stephano, and Caliban, by his music, 
shows the tendency throughout Bacon's works to associate many 
or opposite ideas in such a manner as to make them blend into 
one harmonious thought. Here all the five senses do their part 
and are shown to be mutually connected. The men were drink- 
ing, and striking out, striving to touch something. Ariel beats 
his tabor, and their senses are so confused that they try to see or 
to smell his music, following it to the detriment of their shins, 
the sense of hearing beguiling the sense of touch, until they are 
plunged into the midst of foul-smelling mud. We feel through- 
out that the author is illustrating his doctrine of the Biform- 
Figure of Nature, showing how a man who takes no pains to cul- 
tivate the intellectual and spiritual side of his nature reduces 
himself to the level of the brutes, to which by his body he is 
kin. 

Ai-i. I told you, sir, they were red-hot witli drinking; 
So full of valour that they smote the air 
For breathing in their faces; heal tlie ground 
For kissing of their feet ; yet always bending 
Towards their project. Then I beat my tabor; 
At which, like uuback'd colts, they prick\i their ears, 
Advanced their eyelids, lifted up their noses 
As they smelt music: so I charm'd their ears 
That calf-like they my lowing follow'd through 
Tooth'd briars, sharp furzes, pricking goss and thorns, 
Which entered their frail shins : at last I left them 
r the filthy-mantled pool beyond your cell, 
There dancing up to the chins, that the foul lake 
'O'erstunk their feet. ^ 

Lastly, with regard to the organ of taste, " which enables us 
to make a proper distinction in the choice of our food: this 
sense guards the entrance of the alimentary canal, as that of 
smell guards the entrance of the canal for respiration. Smelling 
and tasting are inseparably connected, and it is by the unnatural 
kind of life men commonly lead in society that these senses are 
rendered less fit to perform their natural offices. . . . The senses 
are the channels of communication to the mind, and ivhen the 

1 Tempest, ir. 1. 



284 FEANCIS BA CON 

mind is diseased every sense loses its virtue. " In the noblest 
arts the mind of man is the subject upon which we operate, and 
wise men agree that there is but one way to the knowledge of 
Nature's works, the way of observation and experiment. 
" Memory, imagination, taste, reasoning, moral perception, and 
all the active powers of the soul . . . constitute a proper 
subject for the investigation of Masons, and are mysteries 
known only to nature and to nature's god, to whom all are in- 
debted for every blessing they enjoy." In other words, "the 
proper study of mankind is man," and humanity must be led 
to inquire, and " to look from nature up to nature's God. " Yet 
it is dif&cult to see how this dissertation has any true connection 
with the adjoining passages on architecture, or with those which 
immediately follow, on " geometry, the first and noblest of the 
sciences," the same as symmetry, and *' order, Heaven's first 
law, " unless we take the view that all this is the symbolic lan- 
guage. In this section God Is called, in Baconian language, 
the Divine Artist, the Great Artificer of the Universe, the Architect 
of Nature. The universe Itself is God's vast machine, framed 
by himself and through which, by geometry, " we may curiously 
trace Nature, through her various windings, to her most concealed 
recesses. " 

In the really poetical and very Baconian description here 
given of the beauty and order displayed in the various parts of 
animate and inanimate creation, the writer delights to prove 
" the existence of a first cause. . . . Every blade of grass that 
covers the field, every flower that blows, every insect which 
wings its way into unbounded space, . . . the variegated carpet 
of the terrestrial creation, every plant that grows, every flower 
that displays its beauties or breathes its sweets, afi"ords instruc- 
tion and delight. When we extend our views to the animal 
creation, and contemplate the varied clothing of every species, 
. . . the hues traced by the divine pencil in the plumage of the 
feathered tribe, how exalted is our conception of the heavenly 
work. . . . The apt disposition of one part to another is a per- 
petual study to the geometrician. . . . Even when he descends 



AND His SECRET SOCIETY. ^$5 

into the bowels of the earth he finds . . . that every gem and 
pebble proclaims the handiwork of an Almighty Creator." 

In the sixth section of the second degree, previous utterances, 
suggestions, and lessons are repeated, still in diluted Baconian 
terms. Evaporating a little supertiuous phraseology, we again 
come upon famiUar exhortations to temperance,- fortitude, 
prudence, and justice. Temperance, which governs the passions. 
Fortitude, which he who possesses is seldom shaken, and never 
overthroivn hy the storms that surround him. Prudence, the chief 
jewel of the human frame. Justice, the bound of right, the cement 
of civil society, which, in a great measure, constitutes real good- 
ness, and which should be the perpetual study of the good 
Mason. Virtue, true nobility. Wisdom, the channel through 
which virtue is directed and conveyed. The mind, the noblest 
subject of our studies. Observation and experiment, the one way 
to the knowledge of nature's works. 

Masonry, we are repeatedly told, is a progressive science, 
including almost every branch of polite learning. The omission 
implied consists, apparently, in all matters connected with 
Christianity and the church of Christ; in fact, if, as we think, 
Bacon framed these rules, we see that this must be so. For, 
after a dissertation (still iu Baconian language paraphrased), 
upon -'geometry, the noblest of the sciences; "... upon the 
" numberless worlds framed by the same Divine Artist, wbich 
roll through the vast expanse, conducted by the unerring laws 
of nature," and of the "progress made in architecture, par- 
ticularly in the reign of Solomon," these instructions finish up 
with a short explanation of the liberal arts, which are computed 
by the Masons to be seven in number, i 

These arts are grammar, rhetoric, logic, arithmetic, geometry, 
music, astronomy (which includes the doctrine of the spheres), 
geography, navigation, and the arts dependent on them. " Thus 
end the diff"erent sections of the second lecture," . . . which, 
besides a complete theory of philosophy and physics, contains a 

1 Seven, that mystical number, which, as vrc have clseu-here said, is so elosel7 
associated with Masonic symbols and traditions. 



286 FRANCIS BACON 

regular system of science, demonstrated on the clearest princi- 
ples, and established on the firmest foundations. 

Truly this must be a wonderful lecture, and it seems quite a 
pity that the majority of mankind should be excluded from this 
short cut to the seven liberal arts and sciences. Perhaps, how- 
ever, it only points the way, as Bacon did, to so many studies 
which ultimately lead to knowledge fitting its possessor for 
admission to the last and highest degree of initiation. For the 
third and last lecture consists of twelve sections, composed of 
" a variety of particulars, which render it impossible to give an 
abstract ivithout violating the laivs of the order. . . . Every 
circumstance that respects government and system, ancient lore 
and deep research, curious invention and ingenious, is accurately 
traced, while the mode of proceeding, on public as well as on 
private occasions, is explained. Among the brethren of this 
degree the land-marks of the order are preserved; and from 
them is derived that fund of information which expert and 
ingenious craftsmen only can afford, whose judgment has been 
matured by years and experience. " 

" To a complete knowledge of this lecture few attain ; . . . 
from this class the rulers of the craft are selected; and it is only 
from those who are capable of giving instruction that we can 
properly expect to receive it." 

It is, then, this highest class of Masons that we should con- 
fidently expect to find in possession of all the histories of the 
building and endowing of the great libraries, colleges, schools, 
hospitals, etc., of which we have elsewhere spoken. We should 
expect them not only to be able to give account of the origin 
and builders of these and other structures— gateways, fountains, 
etc., to ancient houses; tombs and monumental tablets and 
sculptures; of wood-carvings, of pulpits, choir stalls, etc. Iron- 
work also, in churches, gateways, and old signs; designs in 
stained windows and ceilings. But we should expect from them 
a clear and indubitable explanation of the meaning of the 
peculiar designs and figures which we have observed, not only in 
buildings, but in books. 

A very brief account of the building of the Temple of 



AI^D ms SECRET SOCIETY. 287 

Solomon, and of the dedication of that edifice, follows. " We 
can, " says the author, " afford little assistance to the industrious 
Mason in this section, as it can only be acquired hy oral commun- 
ication. " A remark which again plainly shows us that the temple 
to be built is not a mere structure of brick or stone. Two 
pages more bring us to an explanation of " the seven liberal 
arts, " of which five at least seem to have nothing to do with 
architecture — grammar, rhetoric, logic, arithmetic, geometry, 
music, and astronomy — and as these, together with " the doc- 
trine of the spheres, " are all to be included in one lecture, we 
may rest satisfied that this lecture is not so profound as its title 
might lead us to suppose. 

Here we should be inclined to break off this review of 
Masonry, because, having extracted as much as we can of the 
pith and meaning and aim of these Masonic mysteries, it seems 
undesirable to spend time and space upon .particulars which 
apparently have for their object to puzzle and confuse the unini- 
tiated reader ; though to the initiated they may, perhaps, con- 
vey some information or reminder. We continue, nevertheless, 
chiefly for the sake of illustrating a theory set forward in 
another place, with regard to feigned or disguised histories, 
records and biographies, and changed names. 

In Book III. a short paper is printed which professes to con- 
tain " Certayne questions, ivith ansivers to the same, concerning 
the mystery o/Ma^onrye, writtene by the handeofKynge Henrye, 
the sixthe of thename, and /aithfuUyecopyedby me JohanLiEYLA^D, 
antiquarius, by the commands of his Highnesse.^^ Whether or 
not this document is what it pretends to be, is not to the present 
purpose; our object is to draw attention to the strange /oof- 
notes which accompany the questions, and which occupy much 
more letter-press than the document itself. None of these notes 
appear to be both genuine and necessary; some contain the 
elaborate quibbles or puns which were said to be so irresistible 
to Bacon, but which, also, we think, formed a part of the secret 
and ambiguous language of his society ; others speak of the 
invention of arts which Bacon suggested or commenced; all 
include touches of his style; one mentions his name. For 



288 PRAN CIS BACON 

instance, foot-note 6 turns upon a supposed confusion between 
Venetia and Phoenicia: ^^ perhaps similitude of sound might 
deceive the clerk ivho first took down the examination. " Then to 
the question, " Howe commede ytt yn Engelonde? " we are 
informed that Masonry was brought by " Peter Gower, a Grecian, " 
who, after travelling through Egypt and Syria, and every coun- 
try where " the Venetians " had planted Masonry, " framed a 
grate lodge at ' Groton.' " The foot-notes again correct this 
passage at much length : 

" Peter Gower must be another mistake of the writer. I was 
puzzled at first to guess who Peter Gower should be. the name 
being perfectly English; or how a Greek could come by such a 
name. But as soon as I thought of Pythagoras, I could scarce 
forbear smiling to find that philosopher had undergone a metem- 
psychosis he neverdreamt of. We need only consider the French 
pronunciation of his name, Pi/thagore, that is, Petagore, to con- 
ceive how easily such a mistake may be made by an unlearned 
clerk." 

The true object of this note seems to be to draw attention to 
the connection between Pythagoras and the wisdom and relig- 
ious mysteries of the Egyptians. " That he was initiated into 
several different orders of priests, who in those days kept all 
their learning secret from the vulgar, " is a hint which seems to 
point to a similar system in Masonry, and the subsequent re- 
marks about Pythagoras having discovered the Forty-seventh 
Book of Euclid, and that he " made every geometrical theorem 
a secret, and admitted only such to the knowledge of them as 
had first undergone a five years' silence, " seems to contain a 
further hint concerning the nature of certain highly scientific 
systems of cipher-writing which we have elsewhere found men- 
tioned in connection with the name of Pythagoras. 

With regard to " the grate lodge" which Pythagoras is said 
to have founded at Groton, another foot-note corrects the error 
after this fashion : " Groton is the name of a place in England. 
The place here meant is Crotona, " etc. From the many Mason? 
made by Pythagoras " yn processe of tyme, the arte passed yn 
Engelonde. " 



AND His SECRET SOCIETY. 289 

In answer to the question, " Whatte artes haveth the Ma- 
founes techedde maukynde?" we are told that they taught 
agriculture, architecture, astronomy, numbers, music, poesy, 
chemistry, government, and " relygyonne " (religion). To this 
a foot-note appends the remark, " What appears most odd is, 
that they reckon religion among the arts, " and this appears to give 
another hint of the double-meanings, and symbolism, and, per- 
haps, of the cipher-system introduced, then as now, into religious 
books, pictures, designs, and edifices. 

But the next note is even more suggestive. In reply to an 
inquiry as to what the Masons conceal, we learn that " they 
concelethe the arte of ffyndynge neue artes.'' Here our com- 
mentator becomes more than usually communicative: 

" The art of finding arts must certainly be a most useful art. 
My Lord Bacon's Novum Organum is an attempt toward some- 
what of the same kind. But I much doubt that, if ever the 
Masons had it, they have now lost it, since so few new arts have 
been lateli/ invented and so mam/ are wanted. The idea I have 
formed of such an art is, that it must be something proper to be 
employed in all the sciences generally, as algebra is in numbers, 
by the help of which new rules of arithmetic are and may be 
found." 

The Masons, also, are said to conceal the art of keeping secrets, 
though what kind of an art this may be the commentator pro- 
fesses not to know. They also conceal " the art of changes" (but 
he knows not what it means) and " the facultye of Abrac. " Here 
he is utterly in the dark. Lastly, Masons conceal their " uni- 
versal language. " The foot-note to this statement might be 
supposed to be a mere transcription, either of some rough notes 
or of verbal instructions given by Bacon himself: 

" An universal language has been much desired by the learned 
of many nges. It is a thing rather to be wished than hoped for. 
... If it be true, I guess it musi be something like the language 
of the pantomines amongst the ancient Romans, who were said 
to be al)le, by signs only, to express and deliver any oration in- 
telligibly to all men and languages. " 

Bacon makes many references to the silent language conveyed 

19 



290 FRANCIS BACON 

by pictures or sculptures, but the passage just quoted may con- 
tain a hiut of the instruction which may be given by dumb 
shows, or stage phiys, for it continues as Bacon does where, in 
in the De Augmentts, he upholds the benefits derivable from a 
wise use of the theater. Yet in all that regards these arts of 
concealment, there are, to the mind of the present writer, strong 
hints of a system not so much oi secret studies as o{ secret methods of 
communication, whether by means of cipher- writing, hieroglyphic 
designs, pantomimic gestures, or double-meaning language. 
This can only be tested by a comparison of many books in which 
veiled information of the same kind is to be found. May some 
industrious reader follow up the subject, which seems to become 
easier as we plod on. 

The fourth and last book in this strange little volume pro- 
fesses to give " The History of Masonry in England. " Whether 
or not anyone was ever found to believe the statements made in 
the opening chapters of this " History" we know not, but 
hitherto we have not found them repeated, excepting in Masonic 
dictionaries and manuals. We are to believe that "Masonry" 
flourished in England before the time of the Druids; that lodges 
and conventions were regularly held throughout the period 
of Roman rule until Masonry was reduced to a low ebb 
through continual wars. At length the Emperor Carausiiis, 
having shaken off the Roman yoke, contrived the most effectual 
means to render his person and government acceptable to the 
people by assuming the character of a Mason, . . . He raised 
the Masons to the first rank as his favourites and appointed Al- 
banus, his steward, the principal superintendent of their assem- 
blies. Later on, " he granted them a charter and commanded 
Alhanus to preside over them as Grand Master. Some particulars 
of a man so truly exemplary among Masons will certainly merit 
attention. Alhanus was born at Verulam, now St. Albans, in 
Hertfordshire, of a noble family." Some account of the proto- 
martyr, St. Albau, is then introduced; it ends by saying that St. 
Alban built a splendid palace for the Emperor at Verulam, and 
that to reward his diligence " the Emperor made him steward of 
Ms household and chief ruler of the realm. . . . We are assured 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 291 

that this knight toas a celebrated architect and a real encourager 
of able ivorkmen; it cannot, therefore, be supposed that Free- 
masonry would be neglected under so eminent a patron." 

This remarkable and authentic history further enlightens us as 
to St. Alban's munificence and liberality in paying his servants. 
" Whereas before that time, in all the land, a Mason had but a 
penny a day and his meat, St. Alban mended it, " for " he gave them 
twoshillings a day, and threepence to their cheer. . .. Healsogot 
them a charter from the King. " i An additional note adds that 
" a MS. ivritten in the time of James II. contains an account of 
this circumstance, and increases the iveekJn pay to 3s. 6d. and 3d. 
a day for the bearers of burdens. " These payments were liberal 
for the seventeenth century. For the days of St. Alban, mar- 
tyred A. D. 303, the allowance strikes us as remarkable for 
labouring masons and hod-men. Perhaps we may find three 
shillings and sixpence per week was the pay for scribes, amanu- 
enses, etc., and threepence a day for messengers. 

The editor of the Boyal Masonic CijclopcBdia is so considerate 
as to grant his readers the full use of their faculties in this 
investigation. To be sure, he complicates it as much as possible 
by cross-references, but it seems to be the rule rather than the 
exception to hinder students from attaining any information of 
value without the exercise of some perseverance and considera- 
ble loss of time. Thus, we wish to ascertain the origin of Free- 
masonry. Finding nothing to the point under " Freemason, " 
we try " Origin of Freemasonry," and are more happy. This 
article summarizes the theories promulgated on the subject: 
" 1. Masonry derived from the patriarchs. 2. From the myste- 
ries of the pagans. 3. From the construction of Solomon's 
Temple. 4. From the Crusades. 5. From the Knights Templars. 
6. From the Roman Collegia of Artificers. 7. From the operat- 
ive masons of the middle ages. 8. From the Rosicrucians of 
the sixteenth century. 2 9. From Oliver Cromwell. 10. From 
Prince Charles Stuart, for political purposes. 11. From Sir 

1 Whj^ has the Emperor become suddenly oulj- llie King ? 
1 Observe that the Rosicrucians are here traced hj the Freemasons no far- 
ther back than Bacon's time, 



292 FRANCIS BACON 

Christopher Wren, at the building of St. Paul's. 12. From Dr. 
Desaguliers and his frieuds, in 1717." 

" Itishardly necessary, ^^ adds this accommodating instructor, 
" to express any opinion on the point : the Fraternity has the 
advantage of being able to choose for itself, and, as Masonry is 
now worked, any decision on the point is as impossible as the 
value of that decision would be futile. " This is discouraging. 
Nevertheless, we cannot fail to observe that, amongst the twelve 
distinct theories as to the origin of the Freemasons, the legend 
of St. Alban is omitted. The writer refers us to a previous 
article on the " Antiquity of Freemasonry. " The words with 
which this article greets us are doubtless intended to deter us 
from investigation: 

*' On this subject much has been ivrittcn toUttle purpose, and it 
is not proposed to further discuss them here. That mystical 
societies flourished long before the dawn of history, is not to be 
denied, but that such societies essentially resembled Freemasonry, 
it is more than futile to opine. " 

Then the writer goes off into a discussion of hieroglyphics 
and Egyptian symbolism, and speaks of Hiram, Osiris, and 
Adonis, and of Numa Pompilius, king of Rome. He is not much 
interested in his own remarks, and evidently does not expect 
any one else to be so. " It is idle to speculate upon such a topic 
as the antiquity of these secret associations, and it is far wiser 
to accept the development, as being in essentia all that we 
know upon the subject." 

Alas ! not every one has so much wisdom as to find bliss in- 
ignorance. We next try " Alban, St. — See Saint Alban. " 

^^ Saint Alban. — The proto-martyr of England, born at 
Verulam or Saint Alban's, in Herefordshire. He is the reputed 
legendary introducer of Freemasonry into England, but without 
much vidence." 

So the writer takes no heed of all the accurate historic infor- 
mation about the Emperor Carausius which the " Past Master 
of the Lodge of Antiquity " was so particular in chronicling ! 
We are now referred to a sixth article on " Grand Masters of 
Freemasonry," which opens by again cautioning the reader 



AND HIS SECBET SOCIETY. 293 

against puttiug any trust in tlie information which is about to 
be imparted to him. 

" Grand Masters of England before the Revival of Masonry 
in 1717. TUfs list has been collated from several authorities. It 
is, however, not given as fact, but as tradition.'^ 

Here the " tradition " of St. Alban, which in Preston's Illus- 
trations is presented as true history, is repeated. The first 
Grand Master is said to have been — 

" A. D. 287. Saint Alban, a Roman Knight, when Carausius 
was Emperor of Britain. " 

Say that the origin of Freemasonry was traditional, yet what 
need is there to invent an Emperor Carausius ?i 

After a sketch of the History of Masonry in England, under 
St. Augustine, King Alfred, and the Knights Templars, we are 
gradually made to perceive how, from very early times, the 
great family of the Pembrokes and the Montagues were con- 
nected with (or said to be connected tvith) Masonry. Roger de 
Montgomery, Earl of Shrewsbury, is said to have employed the 
fraternity in building the Tower of London. Gilbert de Clare, 
Marquis of Pembroke, presided over the lodges in the reign of 
Stephen, when the Chapel, afterwards the House of Commons, 
at Westminster, was built by the Masons. On the accession of 
Edward I., 1272, the care of the Masons was entrusted to the 
Archbishop of York, the Earl of Gloucester, and " Ralph, Lord 
of Mount Hermer, the progenitor of the family of the Mon- 
tagues," -who finished the building of Westminster Abbey. 
Even when we come down to the history of luigo Jones, as a 
Mason and architect of the palace at Whitehall, and of many 
other magnificent structures in the time of James I., we are 
reminded that it was to William Herbert, Earl of Pembroke, 
that Inigo Jones owed his education ; that by his instrumentahty 
Inigo Jones was introduced to the notice of the King, " nomi- 

1 We can ouly suppose that Carausius was either a pseudonym for James I., 
-whose "steward and chief ruler of the realm" Bacon really was; or that two 
facts are mixed, and that a record of something connected with Prince, after- 
wards King Charles (Carolus) may be here hinted. Those who follow up these 
devices for imparting knowledge will not find either of these suggestions tg 
be impossible, or exceptionally strange. 



294 FRANCIS BACON 

nated Grand Master of England, and deputised by his sovereign 
to preside over the lodges." Again, we read that William Her- 
bert, Earl of Pembroke, became warden to Grand Master Jones, 
and that when the architect resigned, in 1618, the Earl of Pem- 
broke succeeded hira, and presided over the fraternity until 
1630. Others of Bacon's friends accepted oflBce for short 
periods — Henry Danvers, Earl of Derby; Thomas Howard, 
Earl of Arundel, and Francis Russel, Earl of Bedford. Then, 
in 1636, Inigo Jones returned to his office of Grand Master, 
which he retained till hio death, in 1646. He designed Wilton 
House, the seat of the Earls of Pembroke, where there was a 
private theatre, and where Measure for Measure was first per- 
formed by Shakespeare's company, in order, it is said, to 
propitiate the King at a time when Sir Walter Raleigh was about 
to be tried for his life at Winchester, and when James I, and 
his suite were staying at Wilton. 

In the early accounts of Freemasonry, it really appears that 
the actual building of " fair houses, " or magnificent edifices 
for public utility, or for religious purposes, was the sole 
or chief object and mission • of the Masons. Even at these 
early dates, however, the friends of Bacon's family were 
apparently always mixed up with the afiairs of the society. 
Long after Bacon's death, the records of Masonry are seen 
recording the same connection. On the 27th December, 1663, 
a general assembly was held, at which Henry Jermyn, Earl 
of St. Albans, was elected Grand Master, who appointed Sir 
John Denham his deputy, and Mr. (afterwards Sir) Chisto- 
pher Wren and John Webb his wardens. " 

We pause, in order to draw especial attention to a foot-note 
appended to the name of Christopher Wren: 

" He was the only son of Dr. Christopher Wren, Dean of Wind- 
sor, and was born in 1632, His genius for arts and sciences 
appeared early. At the age of thirteen he invented a neio astro- 
nomical instrument, by the name of Pan-Organum, and wrote a 
Treatise on Rivers. " 

It is, perhaps, needless to say no such " astronomical instru- 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 295 

ment " is known at the Royal Society; neither is it mentioned 
in any other account of Sir Christopher Wren which we have 
met with, although the fact that he was, in 1680, chosen Presi- 
dent of that society, might naturally suggest some instances of 
his connection with mathematical science and mechanical inven- 
tions. Observe, that here is another precocious boy who 
" invents " or designs a plan for a universal method, a Novum 
Organum. Will any one produce Sir Christopher Wren's Treat- 
ise on Elvers, or any proof of his having written such a work? 

In no life or biography of Sir Christopher Wren do we find 
any of the statements which this work on Freemasonry inserts 
concerning him, and which (as usual in these cases) are rele- 
gated to afoot-note. His biographer continues: 

" His other numerous juvenile productions in mathematics 
prove him to be a scholar of the highest eminence. He assisted 
Dr. Scarborough in astronomical prepai-atious, and experiments 
upon the muscles of the human body ; whence are dated the first 
introduction of geometrical and mechanical specidatious m 
anatomy. He wrote discoveries on the longitude ; on the varia- 
tions of the magnetical needle ; de re nautica veterum ; how to 
find the velocity of a ship in sailing; of the improvements of 
galleys, and how to restore wrecks. Besides these, he treated on 
the convenient way of using artillery on ship-board ; how to 
build on deep water; how to build a mole into the sea, without 
Piizzolan dust or cisterns, and of the improvement of river navi- 
gation in ioining of rivers. In short, the works of this excellent 
genius aj^pear to be rather the united efforts of a ivhole century 
than the production of one man." 

Here, it will be observed, the writer is saying of Sir Christopher 
Wren the same, in other words, that Dr. Sprat said of Bacon, that 
" though he might not allow him to be equal to a thousand men, he 
was at least equal to tiventy." 

And, looking back at the catalogue of Wren's performances, 
not only are we disposed to look askance upon statements which 
come to us in such questionable shape, and which have such a 
curious affinity with particulars of researches which we dokuow 
to have employed the nimble brain and the equally nimble pen 
of Bacon; but further (since it is pleasant to understand what 



296 FRANCIS BACON 

We read) will any one inform ns as to Puzzolan dust, and what 
can any kind of dust have to do with the building of a mole, or 
with cisterns? Is it possible that in Puzzolan dust we meet with 
one of those egregious puns, those quibbles or jests which, ac- 
cording to Ben Jonson, Bacon never could pass b//f Was this 
the dust which is to be cast in the eyes of the mind to ^^ puzzle 
the understanding," or to " puzzle the will" of man? We read 
in Rosicrucian works of " dusty impressions," i of brains which 
" trot through dust and dirt, " 2 and the quibble is as well suited 
to convey its meaning as many others which we find in these and 
similar books. Perhaps when Ben Jonson said that Bacon never 
could pass by a jest, he said it with a purpose, to draw attention 
to these endless ambiguities of speech, the trivial puns which 
conveyed such weighty meanings. 

The names of disthiguished Masons are well worthy of note. 
They afford much insight into the connection between certain 
famous old firms in printing and kindred trades and those of 
to-day. It will be seen how many names well known in litera- 
ture, art, and science are Masons, as it were, hereditary, and 
handing down the lamp of tradition, each in his own line. We 
have noticed some interesting tombs in connection with this sub- 
ject, and younger readers are advised (having filled their minds 
with the symbols of these societies) to keep their eyes open 
when visiting old churches and church-yards. 

To return to the point whence we started in this chapter, we 
find it almost impossible to believe that the Rosicrucians and the 
Freemasons were separate and totally disconnected fraternities, 
all evidence showing them as, originally, one and the same, the 
Rosicrucians forming the pinnacle to the lower orders of Masons, 
and although a mass of suggestive evidence has come before us, 
by means of the Rosicrucian books and documents, the more 
solid historical facts have all been reached by an examination of 
the old works which are professedly Masonic. 

It is more than probable that at some period within a hundred 
years from the death of Bacon the " little knowledge" of many 

1 Bruno's Heroic Euthusiasts, part II. p. 176, edited b^ L. Williams, published 
by Quaritch. 2 Quarles' Emblems, i, l\ 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 297 

of bis followers became indeed " a dangerous tbing;" tbat tbe 
" l^ufled," " swelling" and " windy" pride wbicb be reprobated 
took tbe place of tbe patient, bumble, self-effiicing spirit of 
bis first fraternity, and tbat tbe " Free Tbougbt" for wbicb be 
laboured " from curbed license pluck'd tbe muzzle of restraint. " 
Instead of exercising a gentle and benign practice of tolerance 
in matters of religious ceremonial or of opinion, tbe Masons, 
in many cases, seem to bave lost sigbt of tbe tmiversalit// or 
catholicity of true faitb, tlieir religious principles degenerating 
into mere abuse and vituperation of tbe Romisb cburcb, wbereas 
tbeir duty was but to resist and expose its errors and 
imposture, and tbe initiation of Roman Catbolics (not 
Papists) was permitted by tbe laws of tbe brotberbood. Tbis 
violent and intemperate bebaviour of tbe Freemasons seems to 
bave produced a rupture, and Freemasonry became not tbe 
handmaid, but tbe enemy and opponent of Cbristianity, and tbe 
result affords a melancboly illustration of the saying of Bacon 
concerning atheism and its causes: 

" The causes of atheism are divisions in religion, if they be 
many, for one main division addeth zeal to both sides, but many 
divisions introduce atheism." 

Scandal of priests, and a custom of profane scoffing in holy 
matters are also causes which he notes for that atheism wbicb 
to him is especially " hateful in tbat it depriveth human na- 
ture of tbe means to exalt itself above human frailty. " He 
quotes the speech of Cicero to the conscript fathers, in wbicb be 
says that they may admire themselves as much as they please, 
yet, neither by numbers, nor by bodily strength, nor by arts and 
cunning, nor by tbe inborn good sense of tbeir nation, did they 
vanquish their many powerful antagonists; " but through our 
devotion and religious feeling, and this the sole, true icisdom, — 
they having perceived that all things are regulated and governed 
hy the providence of the immortal gods,— have we subdued all 
races and nations. " i 

1 Essay Of AttieisDj- 



CHAPTER X. 

PAPEE-MARKS USED UNTIL THE TIME OF SIR NICHOLAS 

BACON. 

AMONGST the helps to the understanding in the Interpreta- 
tion of Nature, Bacon " puts in the tenth place instances of 
power, or the fasces, which, also, I call instances of the tvit or hands 
of man. These are the noblest and most consummate works in 
each art, exhibiting the ultimate perfection of it." Such works 
should, he says, " be noted and enumerated, especially such as 
are the most complete and perfect ; because, starting from them, 
we shall find an easier and nearer passage to neiv ivories hith- 
erto unattempted. . . . What we have to do is simply this, to seek 
out and thoroughly inspect all mechanical arts, and all liberal, 
too, as far as they deal with works, and make therefrom a col- 
lection or particular history of the great and masterly and most 
perfect works in every one of them, together with the mode of 
their production and operation. And yet, I do not tie down the 
diligence that should be used in such a collection, to those works 
only which are esteemed the masterpieces and mysteries of an 
art, and which excite wonder. For Wonder is the child of 
Rarity ; i and if a thing be rare, though in kind it be no way 
extraordinary, yet it is wondered at. . . . For instance, a singular 
instance of art is paper, a thing exceedingly common. " 

He proceeds to describe the nature and qualities of paper, 
" as a tenacious substance, that may be cut or torn, " and that, 
in its resemblance to the skin of an animal, and to the leaf of a 
vegetable, imitates Nature's workmanship; and he winds up as 
he began, by pronouncing paper to be " altogether singular." 

Then, as it would at first seem, going off at a tangent from 

1 Miranda : " brave new world that hath such creatures in it ! " 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 299 

his subject, he says: " Again, as instances of the wit and hand of 
man, we must not altogether condemn juggling and conjuring 
tricks. For some of them, though, in use, trivial and ludicrous, 
yet, in regard to the information they give, mag be of much 
value." '^ 

The chain of ideas in this passage — helps to the understanding; 
many particulars united; by the tvit and hands of man; — these 
heli)s illustrated by the masterpieces and mysteries of the art of 
paper - making ; and these arts, again, connected with juggling 
and tricks, suggested to the present writer the idea of examin- 
ing the paper on which those books are printed, and which had 
already been specially noted on account of their " Baconian " 
matter and style; books which also contain the numberless un- 
accountable typographical peculiarities which seem to have 
some relation to a system of cipher, to be discussed in another 
part of this work. 

A few hours of study were sufficient to prove that the very same 
"method of tradition," or system of secret communication, 
which is perceptible in the hieroglyphic pictures and wood-cuts, 
hereafter to be described, prevails, though in a simpler and 
rougher form, throughout the so-called " water-marks" or 
paper-marks of the Baconian books, pamphlets and manuscripts. 

It was also found that the use and aim of these paper-marks, 
and their interpretation, are to be most easily reached by means 
of the metaphorical and parabolical language devised and taught 
by Bacon himself, and which continues to be used, whether con- 
sciously or unconsciously, not only by his acknowledged follow- 
ers, but by the whole civilised world. These symbols were 
introduced with a purpose higher than that of mere decoration; 
they were, in the first iustance, used not only as a means of mut- 
ual recognition, but also for covertly instilling or asserting truths 
and doctrines, in days when bigotry, ignorance, and persecution 
prevented the free ventilation of opinions and beliefs. But the 
secret language of the Renaissance philosophers requires a full 
volume for its elucidation, so, for the present, we must be con- 

INor. Org. xxxi. 



300 FBANCIS BACON 

tent to limit inquiry to its simplest manifestations, in the paper- 
marks of their printed books or manuscripts. 

If one thing more than another can assure the inquirer into 
these subjects that here he has to do with the workings of a 
secret society, it is the difficulty which is encountered in all 
attempts to extract accurate information, or to obtain really use- 
ful books concerning paper-making, printing, and kindred crafts. 
In ordinary books, ostensibly instructive on such matters, the 
particulars, however detailed and accurate up to a certain point, 
invariably become hazy or mutually contradictory, or stop short 
altogether, at the period when works on the subject should teem 
with information as to the origin of many of our English transla- 
tions of the Bible, and of the sudden outburst of literature and 
science in the sixteenth century. This is notably the case with 
one large and very important work, Sotheby's Principia Tyjjo- 
graphica, i which, for no apparent cause, breaks off at the end of 
the fifteenth century, and to which there is no true sequel. 

There are, likewise, at the British Museum 2 eight folio vol- 
umes of blank sheets of water-marked paper. But these papers 
are all of foreign manufacture, 3 chiefly Dutch and German, and 
the latest date on any sheet is about the same as that at which 
the illustrations stop in Sotheby's Principia. 



1 Brit. Mus. Press-mark 2050 G. Principia Typographica. The wood-blocks 
or xylographic delineations of Scripture History, issued in Holland, Flanders, and 
Germany during the fifteenth century, exemplified and considered in connec- 
tion with the origin of printing; to which is added an attempt to elucidate the 
character of the paper-marks of the period. Sam'l Leigh Sotheby. Printed by 
Walter McDowell, and sold by all antiquarian booksellers and printers. ] 858. 
(Paper-Marks. See vol. iii.) 

2 Since there seems to be no catalogue accessible to the general reader, by 
which these volumes are traceable, we note the press-mark at the British Mu- 
seum "Large Room," 318 C. 

3 Two loose sheets are slipped between the pages in two volumes. One is 
classified as Pitcher, the other as Vase. They are specimens of the one-handled 
and two-handled pots of which we have so much to say. These are English, 
and we believe of later date than any of the specimens bound up in the collec- 
tion. Their presence is again suggestive. They hint at the existence of an 
English collection wwiewAere. Another particular points to the same conclu- 
sion. In " Paper and Paper-making" by Richard Herring, of which the third 
edition was printed in 1863 (Longmans), there are, on page 105, five illustra- 
tions of paper-marks. They are all specimens of the patterns used circa 1588 



AND mS SECnET SOCIETY. 301 

If it be worth while to collect, classify, and catalogue, in 
handsomely bound volumes, the water-marked papers of foreign 
countries before the middle of the sixteenth century, one would 
think that it would be of at least equal interest and importance 
to preserve a similar collection, such as could easily be made 
from the papers manufactured in England circa 1588, the date of 
the erection of the first great paper mill. If such matters are 
interesting or important in other respects, it would be natural 
to suppose that literary experts would find pleasure and in- 
struction in connecting the paper with the matter printed upon 
it, and that a collection of paper used by the printers of all the 
greatest works published in the reigns of Elizabeth and James, 
whether that paper was home-made or imported, would have 
been formed by the careful observers who were so keen to 
preserve the older foreign papers, which concern us much less. 

But such a collection, we have been repeatedly assured, does 
not exist at the British Museum, or indeed at any public library 
or museum to which authorities on such subjects can — or may — 
direct us. i 

During this pursuit of knowledge under difficulties we have con- 
stantly been told that the subject is one of deep interest. " In- 
structive," " wide," " complicated," " vast " are the terms by 
turns applied to it by those to whom we have applied for help, 
so that sometimes we have been oppressed and discouraged as 
was perhaps occasionally intended) by the apparent hopeless- 
ness of following up the quest, or of fathoming these mysteri- 
ous difficulties, which seemed to have no bottom. 

But then came comfort. The mysteries, such as they are, are 
evidently traditional, of no real use to living individuals; no one 
can be personally interested in keeping them up, and where 



and later, and they are nnmbered 1418, 1446, 1447, 1449, 1450. These numbers 
evidently refer to a collection such as we have anxiously sought, but which we 
have been repeatedly assured is uul known to exist. That it does exist, we have 
not the slightest doubt ; but where is it, and why is it withheld ? 

1 Recently we have been told that the Trustees of the Bodleian Library 
at Oxford have secured a private collection of the kind, concerning which, 
however, no iuformatiou is forthcoming to the present writer. 



302 FilAMCtS SACON' 

such mystifications are kept up tlie thing concealed is pretty 
sure to be something simple aud easy to master when once it is 
reached. And there must be means of reaching it, because how 
can it be known that these subjects of inquiry are either in- 
structive or worthy of pursuit unless some one has studied and 
pursued them, and discovered whither they tend ? 

Further eftbrt, stimulated by reflections of this kind, have 
not been altogether unrewarded, and, although much remains 
to be cleared up, we trust that, regardless of scratches, we may 
\iave broken such a gap into the matter as to secure an easier 
passage for successors. 

In A Chronology of Paper and Paper- making, ^ there is the 
following entry : 

"1716 — John Bagford, </je most extraordinary connoisseur of 
piaper ever knoicn, died in England. His skill was so 
great that it is said that he could, at first sight, tell 
the place where, and the time when, any paper was 
made, though at never so many years' distance. He 
prepared materials for a History of Paper-Making, 
which are now in the British Museum, numbered 5891 
to 5988. "2 

One hundred and eight volumes by this extraordinary con- 
noisseur of paper ! The hint did not remain unheeded, and it was 



1 Joel Mimscll, 4tli edition, 1870; 5tli edition, 1878. 

2 These form, in fact, part of the Harleian collection. For some reason the 
Bagford portion has receutlj- been divided. The bulk of it now reposes in charge of 
the librarians of the rare old printed books, "Large Room," British Museum. 
The MS. portions are in the MS. department, where, until lately, the whole 
collection were bound togethei*. Most of the folios are scrap-books, containing 
thousands of book phUes and wood cuts, large aud small. Of these we shall 
have to speak by and l)y. Some were moved from the collection by order of 
the chief librarian in 1814 and in 18J8. These extracts, "transferred to the 
portfolios of the Print Room," are not to be found. There is said to be no rec- 
ord of them. Similarly, the evidences of John Bagford's extraordinary knowl- 
edge of paper are absent from these collections. Some folios are made up of 
paper bearing si.K or eight different water-marks, aud there are MS. notes of 
printers, which may lead to further kuowh'dge. But the whole collection gives 
the impression that it has been manipulated for purposes of concealment, rather 
than to a.ssist students, and the authorities at the British Museum in no way 
encourage the idea that information on paper-marks is procurable from this 
source. 



'AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 303 

to be hoped that at hist some true aud reliable information would 
be forthcoming. But, so far as any fresh knowledge concerning 
paper and paper-marks is concerned, an examination of many 
of these curious scrap-books and note-books has proved disap- 
pointing. Yet we glean further evidence as to the pains and 
care which in past years have been bestowed upon the laying 
of plans, and the carrying of them out in small details, for the 
purpose of preventing these subjects from becoming public prop- 
erty ; for the books bear silent witness that one of two things 
has occurred: Either the portions relating to paper and paper- 
marks, their use and interpretation, have been at some time 
carefully ehminated (aud probably stored elsewhere), or else 
they never were in this collection. In the latter case, Joel Mun- 
sell, Hearne, and others, must have derived their information 
about John Bagford and his extraordinary and almost unique 
knowledge of paper, i. e., of paper -marks, from some other 
sources which they do not disclose, but which must be discov- 
erable. For the present, we rest in the persuasion that all these 
" secrets " are in the possession of a certain Freemason circle, 
or perhaps, more correctly speaking, of the paper-makers' and 
printers' " Rings," and since it is not possible that these can a 
tale unfold of the secrets of the printing-house which have 
come to them traditionally, and under stringent vows, we must 
be content, as before, to grope and grub after scraps of informa- 
tion which, poor and despicable as they may seem in their dis- 
jointed state, afford, when pieced together, a valuable contri- 
bution toward the " furniture " of knowledge. 

Ordinary works, whether of general information, or particular 
Instruction on matters connected with paper-making, uuiformly 
convey the impression that " water-marks " are either mere 
ornaments in the paper, or else trade-marks of the paioer -manu- 
facturer. One writer defines them as " ornamental figures in 
wire or thin brass, sewn upon the wires of the mould, wliich, 
like those wires, leave an impression, by rendering the paper, 
where it lies on them, almost translucent." i 

'i. Objects in Art Manufacture. Edited by Charles Tomlinson. No. 1. Paper. 
Harrison, 1884. 



304 FRANCIS BACON 

Another writer, whose book has gone through several editions, 
and who is cited as an authority, distinctly claims for these 
water-marks that they are trade signs analogous to those of a 
public -house, a tea store or a pawnbroker. 

" The curious, and in some cases absurd terms, which now 
puzzle us so much, lu describing the different sorts and sizes of 
paper, may frequently be explained by reference to the paper- 
marks which have been adopted at ditteient periods. In ancient 
times, when comparatively few people could read, pictures of 
every kind were much in use where writing would now be em- 
ployed. Every shop, for instance, had its sign, as well as every 
public-house; and those signs were not then, as they often are 
now, only painted upon a board, but were invariably actual 
models of the thing which the sign expressed — as we still occa- 
sionally see some such sign as a bee-hive, a tea-cannister, or a 
doll, and the like. 

" For the same reason printers employed some device, which 
they put upon the title-pages and at the end of their books, and 
paper-makers also introduced marks by way of distinguishing 
the paper of their manufacture from that of others^ which 
marks, becoming common, naturally gave their names to differ- 
ent sorts of paper. " i 

These conclusions are, really, in no way satisfactory. They 
are in direct opposition to facts which present themselves in 
the process of collecting these water-marks — facts such as 
these : 

1. That the same designs are often varied in the same book, 
some volumes containing as many as eight, twelve, or twenty- 
five variations of one pattern. (See Plates, Ben Jonson, Sel- 
den, etc.) 

2. That similar designs appear in books of widely different 
periods printed and published by various firms, whilst, so far 
as we have found, they appear in the MS. letters of only one 
limited period. 

3. That three kinds of water-marks (and so, according to 
Herring, paper from three different firms) are often found in one 
small book. 



1 '^ Paper and Paper-mal-uiff," p. 103, by Richard Herring, 3d edition, 
1863. Sue also L)r. Ure's -Mines and MaiuofacUires'^ — Paper-making. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 305 

4. That these water-marks, infinitely varied as they are, often 
contain certain initial letters which seem to connect them with 
private persons, authors, or members of a secret society. 

5. That, even in the present day, two or three firms use the 
same designs in their paper-mark. 

These points, which it is our purpose to illustrate, assure us 
that it is an error to suppose either the most ancient or the most 
modern paper-marks to be mere trade-signs. True, that there 
are now some such which have been used, since the revival, as a 
fashion, of the hand-made or rough-edged paper. But these are 
quite easily distinguishable, and those who follow us in this in- 
vestigation will have no hesitation in deciding to which class 
each paper belongs. On the other hand, Mr. Sotheby arrives, 
from his own point of departure, at the same conclusion reached 
by the present writer. 

" I venture, " he says, " to assert that until, or after, the close of 
the fifteenth century, there were no marks on paper which may 
be said to apply individually to the maker of the paper. " With 
Jansen, he agrees that " the study of water-marks is calcu- 
lated to afibrd pretty accurate information as to the country 
where, and the probable period when, a book without date or 
place was printed. . . . Until toward the close of the fifteenth 
century there occur no marks in paper used for the making of 
books, from which we are led to infer that they were intended 
for the motto or device of the maker. That paper-marks were, 
or rather became general, and not confined to particular manu- 
factories, is in fact inferrible from the fact that we are able to 
trace similar marks in use from the commencement to the end 
of the fifteenth century. " In some instances the varieties of the 
same mark are, as Mr. Sotheby says, so abundant that, " in- 
stead of the eight plates engraved by Jansen, it would require 
more than fifty plates of similar size to give the tracings of all 
the varieties of even two marks ; the letter P, and the ' Bull's 
Head.' . . . Hence it is that the frequent remark, ' with little 
variations,' is so generally found in the writings of all those, 
even from the earliest period to the present time, who have 

20 



306 FBANCIS BACON 

touched upon this subject, unaccompanied, hoivever, hy any at- 
temjU to account for or explain them. " 

Here we are reminded of the dictum of the Freemason Cyclo- 
paedia: "^ very minute difference may make the emblem or 
symbol ditt'er widely in its meaning," and of Bacon's similar 
hint as to the necessity for noting small distinctions in order to 
comprehend groat things : 

" Qid in parvis non distlngidt, in magnis labitur.'" 

This he connects with the following note : 

'•'■Everything is subtile till it he conceived^ 1 

It is reasonable to attempt this explanation of the '' little 
variations " that the symbol, whatever it maybe — a bull's head, 
unicorn, fleur-de-lis, vine, or what not — illustrates some single, 
fundamental doctrine or idea. But the " little variations " may, 
as Jansen and Mr. Sotheby agree, afford pretty accurate infor- 
mation as to the country where, and the period when, the book 
was written or " produced. " They may even indicate the paper- 
maker or the printer, or that the persons connected with the 
writing of the book were members of a certain secret society. 

*' The marks that are found on the paper used for the printing 
of the block-books assigned to the Netherlands are, " continues 
Mr. Sotheby, " for the most part confined to the unicorn, the 
anchor, the bull's head, the letter P, the letter Y, 2 and, as we 
shall endeavour to show, the arms of the dynasties of the Duke 
of Burgundy, and their alliances ; initials of particular persons, 
and arms of the popes and bishops. It must not, however, for 

1 Promus, 186, 187. 

2 lu Principia Typographica (vol. iii., Paper-marls), we read that plain P 
stood for the initial of Philip, Duke of Burgimd}', surmounted in some cases by 
the wingXa Jleiir-de-lii, arms proper of Burgund_v, and that in certain copies Y is 
added for Isabella — thus, as the author considers, proving the date. Students 
will, we thiuk, find cause for doubting this explanation of the P and Y so fre- 
quent in very old books, and so long used. In Hebrew the sacred name of God 
is associated with the letter P — P/wded, or Redeemer. As is well known, this 
same form, with a cross drawn through the stem, was the sign adopted by the 
first Christian em]K'rur of Rome, Constantine the Gieat. The Roman church 
still uses this symbol, so fi'equently seen stamped upon our books of Common 
Prayer. The \ is of far greater antiquity as a svmbol, and was held by Pythag- 
oras to signify the different paths of virtue and vice. Hence, says the Royal 
Masonic CyclojKedia, it was termed " Litera Pythagorce.''^ 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 307 

a moment be supposed that no marks similar to those we assign 
to the Netherlands occur in books printed in Germany; but, 
taking it as a general rule, the paper there used for printing 
was, no doubt, confined to the manufactories of the country." 

These remarks do not touch the matter of English books and 
paper-marks; nor do they explain the appearance, simultan- 
eously, or at different periods, of the same marks in.differeut 
countries, and sometimes with the names of different paper- 
makers. 

If the paper used for printing books was usually made in the 
country where the books were printed (and this seems to be the 
most natural and reasonable arrangement), then we must in- 
quire at what English mill was the paper manufactured which 
was to be the means of transmitting to a world then plunged in 
darkness and ignorance the myriad-minded and many-sided 
literature of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries? 

As in everything else connected with printing, the inquirer is 
at once met with difficulties and rebuffs. Authors contradict 
each other. Experts in the trade plead ignorance, or decline to 
give information, and once more we arc obliged to perceive how 
jealously everything connected with these matters is guarded 
and screened from public notice by the Freemasons. The fol- 
lowing is extracted from the little book by R. Herring, which we 
have already quoted: 

" With reference to any particular time or place at which this 
inestimable invention was first adopted in England, all re- 
searches into existing records contribute little to our assist- 
ance. 1 The first paper-mill erected here is commonlt/ attributed 
to Sir John Spielman, a German, ivho established one in 1588, 
at Dartford, for which the honour of knighthood was afterwards 
conferred upon him by Queen Elizabeth, who was also pleased 
to grant him a license ' for the sole gathering, for ten years, of 
all rags, etc., necessary for the making of such paper.' It is, 
however, quite certain that paper mills were in existence here 

1 The editor of the Paper-Mills Directoiy, in his Art of Paper-mal-'mcf, 
(1874), savs distinctly that the first paper mill in England " appeared in 1498; 
the second, Spielman's, sixty years later," 1558; a third at Fen Ditton, near 
Cambridge, " if it was not erected just before." 



308 FRANCIS BACON 

lont? before Spielmau's time, i Shakespeare, in 2 Henry VI. (the 
plot of which is laid at least a century previously), refers to a 
paper-mill. In fact, he introduces it as an additional weight to 
the charge which Jack Cade brings against Lord Saye. ' Thou 
hast/ says he, '■ most traitorously corrupted the youth of the 
realm, in erecting a grammar school, and whereas, before, our 
fathers had no other books but the score and tally, thou hast 
caused printing to be used, and, contrary to the King, his crown 
and digmty, ihoii hast built a jJajjer-mill. ' An earlier trace of 
the manufacture in this country occurs in a book 2 printed by 
Caxton, about the year 1-190, in which it is said of John Tate : 

" 'Which late hathe in Enghmd doo make thya paper thynne 
That now in our Englyssh thys booke is printed inue.' 

" His mill was gituate at or near Stevenage, in Hertfordshire; 
and that it was ctmsidered worthy of notice is evident from an 
entry made in Henry the Seventh's Household Book, on the 25th 
of May, 1198: ' For a reward given at the paper mylne 16s. 3d.' 
And again in 1199: ' Geven in rewarde to Tate of the mvlne, 
6s. 3d.' 3 

" Still, it appears far less probable that Shakespeare alluded to 
Tate's mill (although established at a period corresponding in 
many respects with that of occurrences referred to in connection) 
than to that of Sir John Spiel man. 

" Standing, as it did, in the immediate neighborhood of the 
scene of Jack Cade's rebellion, and being so important as to call 
forth at the time the marked patronage of Queen Elizabeth, the 
extent of the operations carried on there was calculated to 
arouse, and no doubt did arouse, consideiuble national inter- 
est; and one can hardly help thinking, from the prominence 
which Shakespeare assigns to the existence of a paper-mill 
(coupled, as such allusion is, with an acknowledged liberty, in- 
herent in him, of transposing events to add force to his style, 
and the very considerable doubt as to the exact year in which 
the i^lay was written), that the reference made tvas to none other 



1 The writer of an article on paper in the Eiinjdopa'dia Brifannira argues, 
■with reason, that the cheap rate at which paper was sold, even in the inland 
towns of England, in the tifteenth century, affords ground for assuming that 
there was at this time a native industry in paper, and that it was not all im- 
ported. 

2 De Proprietatlhus Rerum, Wynken do Wordcs, edition 1493. 

3 "The water-mark used by Tate was an eight-pointed star within a double 
circle. A print of it is given in Herbert's Tmis AntinuiL, i. 200. Tate died 
X5U."— J. Munsell. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 309 

than Sir John Spielman's establishment of 1588, concerning 
which we find it said : 

" ' Sis hnndrecl men are set to work by him. 

That else might starve or seek abroad their bread, 
Who now live well, and go full brave and trim, 
And who may boast they are with paper fed, ' " 1 

What Shakespeare lover is there who will not recall the echo 
of the last words in Nathaniel's answer to his fellow pedant's 
strictures upon the ignorance of Dull, the constable : 

ffolflfenies. Twice-sod simplicity, his coctus ! 
0, thou monster Ignorance, how deformed dost thou look ! 

Nathaniel. Sir; he hath never /ecZ of the dainties that are bred in a hook; 
he hath not eat p)aper, as it were ; he hath not drunk ink: his intellect is 
not replenished, etc. 2 

The supposed date of Love's Labour's Lost is 1588-9, precisely 
the date of the establishment of our first great mill. Can the 
poet, we wonder, have been en rapport with the inditer of the 
lines quoted by Herring (who, by the way, omits to say whence 
he quotes them) — and which of the two poets, if there were 
two, originated the notion of men being fed ivith paper f 

The omissions of Richard Herring, quite as much as his state- 
ments, raise in our mind various misgivings and suspicions 
concerning him and the information which he gives. Does this 
writer know more than he "professes" to know? Are these 
remaiks, in which he draws in Shakespeare, hiuts to the initi- 
ated reader as to the true facts of the case "l Like the Rosicru- 
cians, ive cannot tell; but recent research leads us more and 
more to discredit the notion that particulars such as these about 
the establishment of the first English paper-mill are unknown 
to those whom they chiefly concern ; or that shifting, shadowy, 
contradictory statements, of the kind quoted above, would 
pass unchallenged, were it not that an excellent mutual under- 
standing exists between the writer and his expert readers. 



1 Herring, pp. 41-44. See also A Chronoloijij of Paper and Paper-making, by 
Joel Munsell, fourth edition, 1870. 
2 Love's Labour's Lost, iv. 2. 



310 FRANCIS BACON 

If; speaking from without the charmed circle, we are expected 
to declare an express opinion regarding these things, it 
must be after this kind: Whatever paper-mills may have existed 
in England before the erection of Sir JobnSpielman's at Dartford, 
they must have been small, private (perhaps attached to relig- 
ious houses), employed only in the manufacture oiivriUng pa- 
per, and at all events quite inadequate to Bacon's purposes 
when he " was for volumes in folio," when he " feared to glut 
the world with his writings, " and when the " Reformation of the 
whole wide world" was to be attempted by means of the press. 
The erection of the first great paper-mill in England is almost 
coincident with the establishment of the great printing-houses, 
whose first and noblest work was the printing and publication 
of the Bible in nearly every language of the globe. 

" It is certain that printing was the great instrument of the 
Reformation in Germany, and of spreading it throughout 
Europe ; it is equally certain that the making of paper, by 
means of the cotton or flaxen fibre, supplied the only material 
which has been found available for printing. Whether this co- 
incidence was simply accidental, or was the eft'ect of that high 
arrangement for high purposes which we so often find in 
the history of Providence, may be left to the consideration of the 
Christian. But it is evident that if printing had been invented 
in any of the earlier ages, it would have been comparatively 
thrown away. . . . But at the exact period when printing was 
given to the world, the fabric was also given which was to meet 
the broadest exigency of that most illustrious invention." i 

And who in those days had reason to know these things bet- 
ter than Francis Bacon ? Who more likely than he to have 
inspired the enterprise of erecting the great paper-mill which 
was to serve as an " instance of the wit or hands of man," and 
to be ranked by him amongst '' Helps to the Understanding in 
the Interpretation of Nature " f 

Bacon never uttered opinions on subjects which he had not 
studied. Neither did he exhort others to undertake works which 
he had in no way attempted. When, therefore, we find him 

1 Dr. Croly's introduction to Paper and Paper making, p. xii. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 311 

saying that all mechanical arts should be sought out and thor- 
oughly inspected, and when, within a few lines, he associates 
these remarks with the masterpieces and mysteries of the art of 
paper-making, no shadow of doubt remains on our mind as to 
his own intimate knowledge and observation of the processes in 
the recently established paper-mill. 

Going forward into the regions of speculation or anticipation, 
we can quite conceive that when Mr. Donnelly's ci[)her system 
shall be brought to bear on the second part of the play of 
Henry VI., it will be found that the erection of this mill is 
recorded in cipher. This seems to be the more probable because 
it appears that, five-and-thirty or forty years ago, it was asserted 
by the then occupier of North Newton Mill, near Banbury, in 
Oxfordshire, that this was the first paper-mill erected in Eng- 
land, and that it was to this mill that Shakespeare referred in 
the passage just quoted ; and further (take note, my readers) — 
this Banbury mill was the property of Lord Saye and Sele. 

Now, although the late Lord Saye and Sele distinctly dis- 
credited the story of this mill taking precedence of Sir John 
Spielman's, by showing that the first nobleman succeeding to 
that title who had property in Oxfordshire was the son of the 
first Lord Saye, i yet it is a coincidence not to be overlooked, 
that the Lord Saye and Sele of modern times should possess a 
paper-mill with the tradition attached to it of its being the 
mythical mill alluded to by Shakespeare. 

The perplexity involved in these statements seems to be dis- 
entangled if we may venture to surmise that the cryptographer 
had to introduce into his play a sketch of the history of Eng- 
land's first great mills, erected in 1588, for the manufacture of 
paper for printed books. 2 The other small mills (which, for our 
own part, we think, did previously exist) were probably private 
establishments, producing paper for the special use of religious 

1 Shakespeare's reference is to the first Lord Sai/e ,■ there is no hint or sus- 
picion that hii .wn had anything to do with a paper-mill. 

2 Note Cade's words: " Whereas, before, our forefathers had no other bonis 
but the score and the tally, thou hast caused prlntliuj to be used." (2 Hoi. 

VI., iv. 7.) 



312 FRANCIS BACON 

houses, for state papers, or for the letters and other documents 
of important personages. In short, the earher paper was, so 
far as we may yet judge, tvriting paper, too expensive to be used 
for books, but, as a rule, substituted, in important documents, 
for the costly parchment and vellum of earlier times. 

It strikes us as a curious thing that, when our expert instructor 
comes to the point at which he affords some " general observa- 
tions'^ on ivhat are termed tvater-marks," he should, for the 
second time, be drawn to illustrate his subject by circum- 
stances connected with Shakespeare. Having briefly com- 
mented upon the use which has sometimes been made of water- 
marks in the detection of frauds, monkish or legal, he continues 
in a long passage, which we abridge: 

" A further illustration of the kind occurs in a work entitled, 
Ireland's Confessions, respecting his fabrication of the Shake- 
speare manuscripts, — a literary forgery even more remarkable 
than that which is said to have been perpetrated by Chatterton, 
as ' Rowley's Poems.' . . . This gentleman tells us that the 
sheet of paper which he used was the outside of several others, 
on some of which accounts had been kept in the reign of Charles 
the First; and ' being at the time tvholly unacquainted ivith the 
water-marks used in the time of Elizabeth, I carefully selected 
two half sheets, not having any mark whatever, on which I 
penned my first effusion.' " 

After relating, with a naivete which borders on the comical, 
the way in which, by a jmyment of five shillings to a bookseller 
named Verey, the narrator obtained permission to take from all 
the folio and quarto volumes in his shop the fly-leaves which 
they contained, " by which means I was stored with that com- 
modity, " Ireland goes on to say that the quiet, ui-isuspecting 
disposition of the bookseller would, he was convinced, never 
lead him to make the transaction public. 

" As I was fully aware, from the variety of water-marks which 
are in existence at tlae present day, that they must have con- 
stantly been altered since the time of Elizabeth, and i)eing for 
some time wholly unacquainted with the water-marks of that 

1 They are rightly described as cjeneral. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 313 

age, I TOiy carefully produced my first specimens of the writing 
on such sheets of old paper as had no marks whatever. Having 
heard it frequently stated that the appearance of such marks 
on the papers would have greatly tended to establish their va- 
lidity, I listened attentively to every remark which was made 
upon the subject, and from thence I at length gleaned the intelli- 
gence that a jug tvas the prevalent tvater-mark of the reign of 
Elisabeth, i in consequence of which I inspected ail the sheets of 
old paper then in my possession, and, having selected such as had 
the jug upon them, I produced the succeeding manuscripts upon 
these, being careful, however, to mingle with them a certain 
number of blank leaves, that the production on a sudden of so 
many water-marks might not excite suspicion in the breasts of 
those persons who were most conversant with the manuscripts. " 

" Thus, " continues our guide, " this notorious literary forgery, 
through the cunning ingenuity of the perpetrator, ultimately 
proved so successful as to deceive many learned and able critics 
of the age. Indeed, on one occasion, a kind of certificate was 
drawn up, stating that the undersigned names were affixed by 
gentlemen who entertained no doubt whatever as to the valid- 
ity of the Shakspearian production, and that they voluntarily 
gave such public testimony of their convictions upon the sub- 
ject. To this document several names were appended by per- 
sons as conspicuous for their erudition as they were pertinacious 
in their opinions. " 2 

And so the little accurate information which is vouchsafed to us 
poor ^' profani,'^ standing in the outer courts, the few acorns 
which are dropped for our nourishment from the wide-spreading 
tree of knowledge, begin and end in Shakespeare. In Shake- 
speare yve read of the erection of the first great paper-mill^ 
an anachronism being perpetrated to facilitate the record. In 
the forged Shakespeare manuscripts, the workings of that same 
paper-mill, and the handing down of Bacon's lamp of tradition, 
are even now to be seen. These signs are so sure as to have 
gulled the learned, " as conspicuous for their erudition as for 
their pertinacity." 

1 Readers are invited to bear in mind this sentence in italics. 
1 Papier and Pa^xr-malincj, p. iii. 



314 FRA NCIS BA CON 

What further need have we of arguments to show that the 
true history of our paper-marks, and then" especial vakio and 
importance, was perfectly well-known to the learned of two 
generations ago ? Are we prepared to believe that such accurate 
knowledge is now lost? Surely not. The Freemasons, and 
more particularly the Kosicrucians, could tell us all about it. 
But, though they could if they might, they may not. There- 
fore, let us persevere, and seek for ourselves to trace, classify, 
and interpret the multitudinous paper-marks which are to be 
found onward from the date at which Mr. Sotheby has thought 
fit to cut off our supplies. 

As to other works, we have given the names of a few from 
which, out of an infinite deal of nothing, we have picked a few 
grains of valuable matter hidden in a bushel of chaff. But, in- 
deed, the reader, if he " turns to the library, will wonder at the 
immense variety of books which he sees there on our subjects, 
and, after observing their endless repetitions, and how men are 
ever saying what has been said before, he will pass from admi- 
ration of the variety to astonishment at the poverty and scanti- 
ness of the subjects; " and he will agree that " it is nowise 
strange if opinion of plenty has been the cause of want ; ... for 
by the crafts and artifices of thpse who have handled and trans- 
mitted sciences, these have been set forth with such parade, 
and brought them into the world so fashioned and masked as if 
they were complete in all parts, and finished. . . . The divisions 
seem to embrace and comprise everything which can belong to 
the subject. And although these divisions are ill-filled and 
empty cases, still, to the common mind they present the form of 
a perfect science. " Bacon goes on to show how the most ancient 
seekers after truth set to work in a difierent way by storing up 
short opinions and scattered observations which did not profess 
to embrace the whole art. " But as the matter now is, it is 
nothing strange if men do not seek to advance in things deliv- 
ered to them as long since perfect and complete. " i 

The early paper-marks were very rude and irregular. They 

iNov. Org. I. Ixxxvi. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 315 

did not greatly improve until the time of the Bacons and the 
Renaissance. Still, they were common in all the manuscripts 
(whether books, letters, or other documents) which issued from 
religious houses, and as soon as printing began, then also began 
to a'lniear these marks in printed books published on the con- 
tinent, and on foreign paper imported into England. 

But, rough as the early paper-marks are, from the very first 
they had a meaning; and so distinctly are they symbolic, so 
indubitably is their symbolism religious, that it would seem 
strange and incongruous to meet with them equally in the vari- 
ous editions of the Bible, and in the early editions of the masques 
and plays of the Elizabethan period, were there not strong evi- 
dence that these, and scores of other secular works, were brought 
out by a society estabhshed with a high religious purpose, and 
which, guided by Bacon's " great heart" and vast intellect, was 
bent upon ameliorating the condition of the world to its lowest 
depths, and by the simplest and least obtrusive methods. 

Bacon drew no hard and fast line between religious and secu- 
lar, or between good and evil, in things, in individuals, or in 
ideas. He thought that Nature, and pre-eminently human 
nature, were " biform," a mixture of the earthy and the spirit- 
ual. Man, he said, is of all creatures the most compounded; 
and, knowing this, he appealed by turns, in the multifarious 
works which ho wrote for man's instruction or recreation, to the 
many sides of the human mind, and of nature; to the dull ani- 
mal who could take in ideas only through the eye and the ear, 
in dumb shows, masques, or stage plays, as to the bright, keen 
intellect of the man whose brain he compares to a diamond cut 
with many facets. 

Everywhere, and by all means, he would endeavour to raise 
" man, who by his body is akin to the brute," to the higher and 
more spiritual level, where he would be, in some degree, " akin 
to the image of God. " 

So, when we find within the pages of Every Man in His Hu- 
mour and Bartholomew Fair the sacred symbols of the vine, 



316 FRANCIS BACON 

and the pot of manna, we may reflect that this is no mere acci- 
dent, no advertisement of the firm who manufactured the paper. 
These are some of the many records handed down by good 
Baconians of their " great master's " desire to draw together 
the most opposite ends of human society, and human thought, 
and to mingle with the coarsest earthy matter some bright and 
imperishable grains of the heavenly gold of truth and knowl- 
edge. 

Let us turn to the plates of illustrations, of which a complete 
catalogue will be found appended to this volume. 

There we see, first, a reduced mark from Jansen's Essai sur 
VOrigine cle la Gravurc, etc. Jansen records that this is the earli- 
est mark known; it occurs, says Mr. Sotheby, " in an account 
book dated 1301 ; a circle or a globe surmounted with a cross I 
A mark that is capable of suggesting much to the mind of a 
Christian."! 

Probably the scarabeus forms (of which several may be seen on 
the plate) are not so capable of suggestion to most minds as 
the former symbol, but their deep signification is interesting, 
and should lead us to search into the origin of these mystical 
marks, admiring the wonderful way in which the wisdom of the 
earliest antiquity endeavoured to inform and teach, whilst the 
minds of men were too childish and uncultivated to receive 
truths except in the form of a picture or of a story. 

That the matters to be instilled were in many cases eternal 
truths, thoughts and doctrines of the most sublime description, 
is seen in that these very same symbols, with a deeper intensity 
of meaning, and with further light shed upon them, have been, 
in various forms, passed on from one nation to another, from gen- 
eration to generation; adopted and modified to suit the require- 
ments of religious expression in many different forms of worship. 
However the external appearance may shadow or disguise the 
true substance, there are found in these symbols the same 
fundamental ideas, the same great universal doctrines and con- 



1 Prlncijna, iii. 10. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 317 

ceptions of the one God — all-knowing, all-powerful, ever pres- 
ent — of His divine humanity, or manifestation in the flesh, of 
His Holy Spirit, comforting, sustaining, inspiring. The mystic- 
al teaching of the universal church of Christ was shown first 
as in a shadow or from behind a curtain, then with increasing 
clearness, until it reached its full development in the light of 
Christianity. Now with regard to the Egyptian beetle or ellip- 
tical form, introduced into the secret water-marks of Christian 
books. The beetle or scarabeus, like the peacock, or the iris, 
was, on account of its burnished splendour and varied colours, a 
symbol of the Heavenly Messenger. In many cases it was 
synonymous with the mystic Phoenix and Phanes, or Pan — an- 
other name for the Messenger or Holy Spirit. The Phaniix was 
supposed to return every six hundred years, upon the death of 
the parent bird, and thus it exemplified the perpetual destruc- 
tion and reproduction of the world. The scarabeus, like the 
Phoenix, was the symbol of both a messenger and of a regener- 
ated soul. It was the most frequent impression upon seals and 
rings in ancient Egypt, and hence the insignia of the Apocalyp- 
tic Messenger, the " Seal-opener. " 

With such hints as these, it is easy to see, not only why the 
old religious writers and secret societies used this scarabeus, 
mixed with the cross and other Christian symbols, but, also, the 
cause and meaning of the extensive adoption of elliptical forms 
in engraved portraits in the mural tablets, monuments, and 
frames to memorial busts, on the tombs of the Rosicrucians and 
their friends. These memorials, when in black with gold letter- 
ing (typifying liglit out of darkness), reproduce absolutely the 
ancient idea adopted and assimilated by the Rosicrucians, of the 
perfect regenerate soul, destined by God to show forth His 
praises, who had called him out of darkness into His glorious 
light ! 1 

Where the orb or globe and the ellipse are united with the 
cross, or where the undulating water-line on an ill-drawn circle 



1 Pot. ii. 9. The ellipse bore in ancient symbolism the same interpretation 
as the beetle. 



318 FRANCIS BACON 

represents the Spirit of God, as waters upon the face of the 
earth, Bacon's idea is before us of the " mingling earth with 
heaven," which was his dream, and his perpetual endeavour. 

The few specimens which are given of the various and fre- 
quent unicorns and panthers, or dogs, as ecclesiastical symbols, 
are curious not only from their quaiutness, and the persistent 
manner in which, by one device or another, they exhibit the 
emblems of the church, but also because here in the anchors we 
see spots which should incite inquiry. These have been explained 
as caused by the crossing or junction of wires in the paper- 
mark, but this explanation seems to be unsatisfactory, consider- 
ing the i)ositi()n of the spots. They are usually in places where 
wires do not cross; and what is to be said of the unicorn (Plate 
II., fig. 1) with a line through his head I Do not these dots 
suggest to the cryptographic expert some of the many systems 
by which words can be spelt out, or information conveyed, by 
means of counting, or by the relative position of dots ? 

The nearest approach to the figure of a dog which we have 
found in Baconian times is the nondescript creature in Plate II., 
fig.. 8. This is in some letters in Anthony Bacon's correspond- 
ence. 1 It seems to be intended to delude the eye as a serpent, 
but to be really the sacred horn, combined with the head of the 
dog or hound, in Hindu symbolism a type of the messenger of 
truth. 

Serpents or serpentine lines are very frequent in early paper- 
marks, usually in combination with a cross, an anchor, or a 
Mercury's rod; they are conspicuous in the large collection of 
bull's-head water-marks which fill a folio volume in the British 
Museum. 2 

Bulls' heads in every conceivable variety of size and arrange- 
ment, in every degree of good and bad drawing, prevail 
throughout most of the MS. Bibles of the fourteenth and fif- 
teenth centuries. Bulls with two eyes, or with one or none, 



1 Tenison MSS., Lambeth Palace. 

2 Press-mark 318 C. vol. vii. 



AND ms SECRET SOCIETY. 310 

with horns flat or exalted; curved like the crescent moon, or 
rounded like leaves. Bulls with bland expressions and regular 
features, formed by the adroit arrangement of a fleur-de-lis for 
eyes, nose and mouth. Bulls with a Greek cross growing out at 
the tops of their heads, or a Mercury's rod entwined with a ser- 
pent descending from their chins, and terminated by various 
symbols, as the triangle, the figure 4, the rose or five-petaled 
flower, the fleur-de-lis, or the so-called Templar's or Maltese 
cross. Ubiquitous as this mark is in the old paper of the conti- 
nent before the days of printing, and although fine specimens 
may be seen of it in letters from foreign ecclesiastics and states- 
men, in Cotton's collection of Baconian MSS., we have not yet 
found one specimen in an English printed book. Special atten- 
tion is, however, drawn to it because we are sure that this bull's 
head, more and more disguised, was, in England especlallj^, 
changed into the mock shields which pervade Baconian litera- 
ture, and which, as we will presently show, are used in the 
present day by the same society which introduced them three 
hundred years ago. i 

This paper-mark is peculiarly interesting, and to the present 
purpose as a forcible witness to the fact that the origin and 
meaning of these marks is distinctly religious, and the symbolism 
of the mediaeval and modern churches in direct and legitimate 
descent from that of the most ancient forms of worship, when 
men, groping after truth, sought for means by which they 
might make visible, to those who were more dull and dark than 
themselves, thoughts and aspirations which they had hardly 
words to express, or their hearers intelligence to comprehend. 

The bull was one of the most ancient Indian and Egyptian 
emblems of God; a symbol of patience, strength, and persistency 
in eflbrt. It is said to be in consequence of these attributes of 
the bull that Taurus became the appointed zodiacal sign 
at the vernal equinox; and under that sign God was adored as 
The Sun, or the Bull. 

1 The bull is considered bv Janseu to distinguish books by Fust. The single 
head belouKS to Gcrmau\\ 



'^20 FRANCIS BACON 

We read in the Bible how the Jews, despairing of the return 
of Moses from the mount, wished to malie for themselves the im- 
age of a god who should lead them through the desert, and cast 
out the ungodly from before them. To this end they melted 
down their golden ornaments, and made the shape of a calf or 
bull. 1 

The bull's head, although not reproduced in England in its 
original form, was and is, as has been said, preserved in dis- 
guise. Plates IV. and V. show a few of the many patterns of 
these disguised heads in mock shields. They are exceedingly 
various and frequent in Baconian works, and in editions of the 
Bible of which Bacon, we think, superintended the revision and 
publication. A comparison of the specimens given from the 
1632 edition of Shakesx>eare, the works of " Joseph Mede, " 1677, 
and the modern-contemporary water-mark used by L. Van Gel- 
der (Plate V.) will explain our meaning. In Van Gelder's paper 
the bull's head is clearly discernible, and so is the mutual 
connection between this and the earlier marks. In the speci- 
mens from the " Diodati " Bible, 1648, there is the same general 
effect as in those from the Shakespeare of 1623, and Bacon's 
works 1638. Certain particulars are never failing — indications 
of horns, eyes, and in some cases protuberant ears. Doubtless 
these mock shields were intended to pass with the profane 
vulgar for coats of arms of some great personage, as Jansen and 
Sotheby would lead us to think them. But a pennyworth of 
observation will correct this notion. The sacred symbols of the 
fleur-de-lis, the trefoil, cross, horns, pearls, and diamonds, with 
the sacred monograms, numbers, and mystic or cabalistic 
marks, show plainly whence the old paper-maker derived 
them. 



1 It is said by some learned authorities that there seems to have heen con- 
fusiou in words, and that the Greelis put into Greeli characters the Egyptian 
Ma-v-oeiu, which means the place of light, or the sun. (See commentary on the 
Apocalypse, iii. 317.) But even this error, if it exists, only serves to show 
more clearly the close connection in the minds of the translators of Holy Writ 
between the most ancient religious symbols and those which they themselves 
employed. Bacon shows, in his Essay of Pan, the connection in parabolic 
language between horns and rays. 



AKD mS SECRET SOCIETY. 321 

lu the Bible horus are frequently used as emblems of pushing 
and conquest. They are, as we see on the Nineveh marbles at 
the British Museum, signs of prophet, priest, and king. In many 
emblem pictures the idea of omnipotence is so mixed up with 
the further god-like attributes of omniscience, omnipresence, 
and universal beneficence, that it is often difficult to decide 
whether the design is most suggestive of the horus of power, the 
rays of spiritual and intellectual light, or the cornucopia) of 
Abundance. Sometimes serpents or serpentine lines found in 
connection with the bull, the cross, and the anchor are (espe- 
cially in connection with wood-cuts) so rendered as to suggest the 
same mixed symbolism. 

To the mystics in India and Greece, as well as to the ecclesi- 
astics of the middle ages, and the philosophers of the sixteenth 
and seventeenth centuries, the serpent of eternity was the sign 
of God, the Holy Spirit. The symbol is retained in the stained 
glass of our church windows, and in emblematic designs from 
the Apocalypse, where St. John the Divine is distinguished by 
the chaUce whence issues the serpent, typifying wisdom, or rea- 
son and speech, the gifts of the Spirit. 

In the caduceus of Mercury, whilst the symbolism is somewhat 
changed, the idea is similar. The rod is said formerly to have 
been a scroll or ancient book, and the two serpents entwined round 
it typify everlasting wisdom. It is likewise the emblem of peace ; 
for Mercury (according to pagaji mythology), finding two serpents 
fighting, reconciled them by a touch of his wand, and thencefor- 
ward bore this symbol of reconciliation. This is held to figure 
the harmonising force of religion, which can tame even the ven- 
omous and cold-blooded snakes. The same line of thought may 
be followed up in Bacon's Essay of Orpheus, and in other places 
where he expounded his own views of the best methods for 
" tuning discords to a concord. " 

The old bugle mark, of which innumerable instances are found 

in old letters and MS. books, and which is in use at the present day, 

seems to have been originally derived from the hull and his horns. 

In the first instance, associated with the conception of the Su- 

1 



3212 FRANCIS BACON 

preme Being and His universal jiower, wisdom, and goodness, it 
became, after a time, tlie bugle or trumpet which was to call 
forth men to their duties — the Ecclesia — called out to do 
especial service for Grod and for Humanity. ^ 

Bacon and his friends adopted this bugle or trumpet, and, giv- 
ing it an additional or secondary significance, assimilated it in 
their hieroglyphic pictures and their parabolic phraseology. 
Bacon is about to treat of the " Division of the Doctrine concern- 
ing Man into the Philosophy of Humanity and Philosophy 
Civil. " He shows throughout this chapter, as elsewhere, that 

" The proper study of mankind is man," 
and this is his prologue : 

" If any one should aim a blow at me (excellent King) for 
anything I have said, or shall hereafter say in this matter (be- 
sides that I am within the protection of your Majesty), let me 
tell him that he is acting contrary to the rales and practices of 
warfare; for I am a trumpeter, not a combatant; one, perhaps, 
of those of whom Homer speaks: 

' Hail, heralds, messengers of Jove and men! ' 2 

and such men might go to and fro everywhere unhurt, be- 
tween the fiercest and bitterest enemies. Nor is mine a trumpet 
which summons and excites men to cut each other to pieces 
with mutual contradictions, or to quarrel and fight with one an- 
other ; but, rather, to make peace between themselves, and, turn- 
ing with united forces against the nature of things, to storm and 
occupy her castles and strongholds, and extend the bounds of 
human empire as far as God Almighty in his goodness may 
permit. "3 

In the 1658 edition of the History of Life and Death, you may 
see a fine example of the bugle with the SS in a shield-frame of 
olive, surmounted by the usual crown, with pearls, horns, and 
fleur-de-lis. * The olive, commoner, even, in the hieroglyphic 



1 Until recently, when the assizes were being held in country towns in Eng- 
land, thejudgcs and council (barristers, etc.) were thus, when the court was to 
begin business, called out from their lodgings by the sound of a bugle or horn. 

2 Hom. i. 334. 

3 De Aug. iv. 1. 

4 Observe also the distinct form of a pot in the outline of the shield or 
•wreath. 



AND mS SECRET SOCIETY. 323 

wood-cuts than in the paper -marks, is an evergreen, figuring 
eternity. This tree was sacred to Minerva, wisdom. From it 
was distilled the ambrosia, drink of the gods, " diviuest olive 
oil," with which Achilles was anointed in order to make him 
invulnerable. " My friends, chew upon this. " Try to realise 
the deep symbolism of that pretty water-mark. See how, by a 
few well- chosen outlines, within two square inches of paper, it 
calls up the thought of one specially endowed for the benefit and 
service of the whole human race, of winning for it all provinces 
of learning; winning, "not as a combatant," but with sweet, 
smooth, and winning words of divinest poesy — that "oil of 
gladness " with which he was anointed above his fellows. 
Songs of joy and gladness are for times of peace, and " the olive 
is symbolical of the joy which peace diftuses. The leaves of the 
ohve (as a wreath) suggest the thought of its oil, used for the 
anointing of the head. Thou anointest my head with oil, says 
David, recounting the abundant blessings which he had re- 
ceived from God; and the ancients were accustomed to anoint 
the head witli oil on all festive occasions. " i 

" Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. Bless- 
ed are the peace-makers, for they shall be called the children 
of God." 2 Gentle, conciliating, peace- making, and peace-lov- 
ing; endowed with powers and knowledge beyond all other men, 
yet modest, retiring, and totally free from dogmatism and intol- 
erance ; a herald, not a trumpeter of his own learning — such was 
Francis Bacon. Apparently, in his own day, and with some of his 
biographers, he would have been more highly esteemed, had he 
asserted himself, defended himself, stood upon his rights, and 
refused to be thought wrong or to confess an error even for care- 
lessness. By nature we know that he was, according to his 
own showing, hasty, impatient, disposed to be over-impetuous 
in his zeal, and exhibiting, though at rare intervals, " the flash 
and outbreak of a fiery mind. " But before setting forth to cou- 



1 Free Masonry, C. I. Paton, 1873, p. 158. 

2 Quoted 2 Hen. YT. ii. 1. 



324 FRANCIS BACON- 

quer others, he studied to conquer himself, with what result we 
see. The sweetness and calm beneficence which pervaded his 
whole being are the perpetual theme of letters and other authen- 
tic records which remain of him. His great desire, " as much 
as lay in him, to live peaceably with all men^ " made him shrink 
from controversy and disputations, prefer self-effacement, mis- 
construction, even disgrace, to the risk of endangering the real- 
ization of his visions and schemes for the happiness of the fut- 
ure ages. 

And truly this " celestial peace " has perpetually hovered 
over his work; truly may this work, begun in faith and meek- 
ness, be said to inherit the earth. For where is there a region, 
inhabited by civilised man, which is left unpossessed by it? 
Founded upon Eternal Truth, that work must be, as Bacon him- 
self believed, imperishable as Truthitself, and rightly is it figured 
by evergreen branches of the olive, sacred to Pallas, i 

Sometimes the mock shields sprout into wreaths of laurel and 
bay (figuring triumph and victory). These seem to have been 
used for books published after the author's death. Other 
shields, whether foreign or English, of later date than 1626, have 
chains or interlinked SS, representing, perhaps, " not only the 
chain of nature and the thread of the fates, which are one and 
the same thing, but the famous chain of Homer, that is, the chain 
of natural causes, ^^ "a chain which is confederate and linked 
together, and which, when the mind of man beholdeth it, must 
needs fly to Providence and Deity. " The chains have, as usual, 
a double and Masonic meaning. Love, friendship, and true 
" brotherhood " are also chains held together by many bands 
or links firmly soldered, and dif&cult to break. 

Bacon moves the Queen to friendly relations with France by 
showing how their mutual interests shouhl form a bond of union 
between them, and, by means of her Majesty's friendship, '* sol- 
der the link 2 which religion hath broken. " 

1 Having stumbled across a quaint coinciilenco which may interest some 
readers, wo give it for whatitmaj" be worth. " Pallas (wisdom) takes her name 
from vibrating a lance " In other words shaken a xpear, " representing heroic 
yirtuo with wisdom." — (See The Book of God, iii. 98.) 

a Compare : " They are so linked In friendship."— 3 ffen. VI. iv. 3, 116. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 325 

He is expressing mucli the same tbonglit about tlie Queen wliich 
is in the speech of King Philip to Pandulfo, the Pope's legate, 
regarding his own recent alliance with the English King: 

"This royal hand and mine are newly knit, 
And the conjunction of our inward souls 
Married in league, coupled and liiik'd iogelher 
With all religious strength of sacred vows." i 

The wise words of Ulysses, commenting upon the anger of 
Ajax because "Achilles hath inveigled his fool from him," 
come often to the mind in reading such Baconian sayings. 

" The amity that wisdom knits not, foJhj may easily untie.'" 2 
Nestor has rejoiced and laughed over the- quarrel and conse- 
quent disunion of the two rival parties. 

" All the better, theiv fraction is more our wish than their fac- 
tion — but it was strong counsel a fool could disunite ! " 

Bacon furnishes a reply. The wisest of princes, he tells us, 
choose true and wise friends ^^ ^^(^^t^cipes citrarum, '' care-sharers, 
for it is that which tieth the knot. 3 Divisions and factions 
weaken the state, and " the cord breaketh at last by the weakest 
pull. " Those are the strongest whose welfare jome^/i and knit- 
teth them in a common cause, * and since religion is, after all, 
the chief band of human society, " it is well when church and 
state are alike contained within the true band of unity. ^ He is 
not so Utopian as to expect that men will ever think all alike, 
on any one subject — there are ** certain self- pleasing and humor- 
ous minds which are so sensible of every restraint as they go near 
to think their girdles and garters to be bonds and shackles " — 
yet he gives this advice according to his " small model." " In 
vesfe varietatis sit, scissura nonsit." Uniformity is not the same 
as unity — the bond of peace and of all virtues — and humanity 
should be drawn together by the chains of sympathy and mutual 
dependence, not rent asunder by hatred, jealousy, and unchar- 
itableness. 



1 John iii. 1. 2 Troll i( a and Cresnida, ii. 3. 

3 See Essay of Frwidshij). i £ss. Sedition. Of Unity. 5 



32G FBANCIS BACON 

Thus we interpret the chains surrounding the shields, foreign 
or English, to be seen amongst our drawings. These shields form 
links with many paper-marks, assuming the shapes by turns of 
mirrors or hearts, or suppressing the escutcheon in favour of 
the crown which should surmount it. Or the outline of the 
shield is marked only by a wreath, or (in works, we think, not 
original, but the product of many translators, editor^i, etc.) by 
the chain, which sometimes includes shells and a pendant — and 
which points to the order of the Golden Fleece as its origin. 

The heart shields often contain or are surmounted by a cross 
something like Luther's seal, or hearts are introduced into 
the frame of a mirror-shield, as in the example taken from the 
posthumous edition of Bacon's History of Henry VII. What a 
parable the old paper-makers have given us here ! No need 
for " drawing it into great variety by a witty talent or an invent- 
ive genius, delivering it of plausible meanings which it never 
contained. " i The parabolic meaning stands out plain before 
our eyes as we hold that old sheet against the light for the sun 
to stream through. 

This shield, modified to the form of a mirror, is " the glass of 
the understandiug, " the mirror of man's mind, which Bacon 
calls the microcosm — the little world reflecting the great world 
without. "To hold the mirror up to nature, " was one of his 
chief endeavours. He would "show vice its own deformity," 
kindly, gravely, or laughingly, " for it is good to mingle jest 
with earnest, " 2 and " what forbids one to speak truth with a 
laughing face ? " 3 

See the bugle of which we have spoken, the heart reminding 
us of the whole-hearted devotion which must be brought to the 
work of raising fallen humanity and regaining our paradise lost. 
Then the scrolls, are they not to bring to mind the magic wand 
of Mercury, once a scroll or book ? It was by books that this 
regeneration was to be chiefly effected. By the pearls of knowl- 



iPref. to Wisdom of the Ancients. 

^ Ess. of Discourse. 

3 Horace quoted Promiis 1041, 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 327 

edge uniting the scrolls, the ellipse which surrounds the mirror, 
and the fleur-de-lis which surmounts the whole, we are again 
bidden to confess that every good and perfect gift of genius, wit, 
or knowledge comes from the great God who has created and 
redeemed us, and who ever comforts, helps, and inspires us, 
that we may glorify Him with our bodies and with our spirits, 
which are His. 

Returning for a minute to the bugles, we must say that it ap- 
pears incomprehensible how a paragraph such as the following 
should be allowed to find its way into a book professedly in- 
structive, " founded upon lectures delivered at the London 
Institution, " and thereby claiming a certain authority : 

" Post paper seems to have derived its name from the post- 
horn, which, at one time, was its distinguishing mark. It does 
not appear to have been used prior to the establishment of the 
General Post-ofQce (1670), when it became the custom to blow a 
horn, to which circumstance, no doubt, we may attribute its 
introduction." 

The post-horn or bugle was, at the time of the establishment 
of the post-ofQce, more than three hundred and fifty years old. 
Even supposing the writer to be speaking of the bugle or horn, 
as used only \\\])rinted books, still it seems almost incredible 
that an expert should be unaware of the presence of this same 
"post-horn" in the works of Bacon thirty years before the 
establishment of the post-office. As for the bugles or " post- 
liorns " in the writing-paper of Baconian correspondence, wo 
pass them lightly over, on account of their multitude, but some 
specimens are given in the plates. 

One more paper-mark, common in old religious books, is the 
fool's-cap. There are, as usual, various forms, some resem- 
bling a mitre, others diverging into distinct rays, five or seven, 
which rays sometimes develop into coronets or radiant rising 
suns. 

The book before quoted proceeds to throw another sprink- 
ling of " puzzling dust " in our eyes by the following observa- 
tions : 

" The foolscap was a later device (than the jug or pot) and 



328 FBANCIS BACON 

does not appear to have been nearly of such long continuance 
as the former. It has given place to the figure of Britannia, or 
that of a lion rampant, supporting the cap of liberty on a pole. 
The name, however, has continued, and we still deuomiuate 
paper of a particular size by the title oi'footsca}). The original 
figure has the cnp and bells, of which we so otten read in old 
plays and histories, as the particular head-dress of the fool who 
at one time formed part of every great man's establishment. 

" The water-mark of a co^j may sometimes be met with, of a 
much simpler form than just mentioned, resembling the jockey- 
caps of the present day, tvith a trifling ornamentation or addi- 
tion to the upper part, i The first edition of ' Shakespeare/ 
printed by Isaac Jaggard and Ed Blount, 1623, will be found to 
contain this mark interspersed with several others of a different 
character. No doubt the general use of the term cap to various 
papers of the present day owes its origin to marks of this de- 
scription. " 2 

Turning our backs for a short time upon authority, we ask 
counsel of experience and research. First, as to the antiquity 
of the fool's cap ? The earliest printed book which contains it 
seems to be the Golden, Legend, written in 1370, but printed by 
Caxton. 3 After this it is not infrequent, especially in the mod- 
ified forms which sometimes suggest a coronet or crown, some- 
times the rays of a rising sun. 

Perhaps the thoughts which the fool's cap suggested were 
akin to those in " Quarles' Emblems: " 

" See'st thou this fulsome idiot: in what measure 
He seems delighted with the antie pleasure 
Of childish baubles ? Canst thou but admire 
The emptiness of his full desire? 
Canst thou conceive such poor delights as these 
Can fill th' insatiate soul, or please 
The fond aspect of his deluded eye ? 
Header, such fools are you and I." i 



1 The writer omits to say that this "addition "is a fleur-de-lis, or other 
sacred emblem. 

2 Herring, p. 104-106. 

3 The illustration given is copied from Sotheby's Principia. 

4 Quarles' Emblems, book jii. 2, 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 329 

The text which furnishes the motif of these hues is from Psalm. 
Ixix, 5 : "0 God, thou kuowest my foolishness, and my sins 
are not hid from thee." 

In the modern edition, a child with a fool's cap and bauble 
rides astride upon the world, which wears an ass's head. 

Little as we have reason to trust any printed statements on 
these subjects, yet there seems to be no cause for disbelieving 
the uncalled-for assertion that the fooVs cap gave place to the 
figure of Britannia, or that of a lion rampant. There are ap- 
parently no modern fool's caps, but " Britanuias" are common 
in English, and lions in foreign foolscap paper. So there can 
be no harm, for the present at least, in registering this item of 
knowledge. Yet we will, a little curiously, inspect our much- 
esteemed ruled foolscap. Holding towards the light the sheet 
on which we are about to write, we see that on one half it bears 
the inscription, " Toogood's Superfine. " This is truly its trade- 
mark. According to our authority, on the other half we have 
Britannia portrayed as on our national penny, seated, and occu- 
pied as usual in ruling the waves. 

This is the first impression. But Britannia should wear a 
helmet, should bear in her hand a trident, and beside her a 
round target or wheel, with the mixed crosses of St. George, St. 
Patrick, and St. Andrew, in the Union Jack. 

The lady of our paper-mark seems to be crowned with five 
pearls. In her right hand she holds a trefoil or fleur-de-lis, 
in her left a spear tipped with a diamond. By her side rests a 
shield of elliptical form, and on it a plain cross. Beneath her 
feet are the ancient marks of waters, and her image is framed 
by three elliptical lines surmounted with a crown of pearls, and 
the Maltese cross and orb. Vq-^v\&, fleur-de-lis, diamond, crosses, 
ellipses — surely again we see in the very texture of our paper 
a reminder of the "Sovereign Lady," Truth; the heavenly 
jewel of knowledge tipping the spear which " pierces to the heart 
of things ; " the pearls, the dew of heaven, the celestial manna, 
which Truth afi'ords. Then the threefold ellipse, the cross, 
trefoil, and waters, are they not reminders of the fact that 



330 FJRANCIS BACON 

knowledge without Faith is but vain, that of ourselves we can 
do nothing, but that all things are possible through the Holy 
Spirit that streugheneth us. " i The trefoil which Truth holds in 
her extended right hand is a silent emblem of the great doc- 
trine of the Trinity in unity, to which heaven and earth alike 
bear witness. 

Would any one endeavour to explain away such an interpreta- 
tion, and to say that this paper-mark either represents Britan- 
nia, or that it represents nobody in particular; that the sym- 
bols are imaginary, or that they have come together by chance ; 
in short, that this is nothing but a manufacturer's work, adopted 
by a certain firm, from whim or fancy, but with no especial aim ? 

Such conjectures cannot be accepted. For trade-marks are, 
as it were, private property; it is even actionable to appropri- 
ate a name or device previously adopted for commercial pur- 
poses. How, then, can we pronounce this paper-mark to be a 
trade-mark, when, taking up a sheet from another parcel 
marked " Joynson's Superfine," we find in it the same image of 
" Britannia," or Truth, as that in Toogood's?^ The same, that 
is, in all essential particulars, ellipses, pearls, diamond, cross, 
crown, trefoil, water — yet with diflerences in small details such 
as we hope to show in similar wood-cuts in the " Baconian " 
books, and such as are perceptible in paper-marks of the same 
design, three hundred years old. 

Joynson's mark is one-tenth of an inch smaller in all direc- 
tions than Toogood's. The waves are fewer, the rross on the 
shield of thinner proportions ; the garment of Truth, which in 
Toogood's pattern is loose, fits tightly in Joynson's similar de- 
sign. We say, then, that this is no mere trade-mark. It is an 
emblematic or hieroglyphic design, deliberately adopted and 
reproduced by two distinct firms of paper-makers. It bears 
witness to a mutual understanding, and to a traditional method 

1 Philippians, iv. 13, Vulgate, noted in Bacon's Promus, as " against conceyt 
of impossibilities." Fol. 114, 1242. 

2 Since writing this we have seen another mark where a man's figure. Time, 
we think, takes the place of Truth. Bacon sajs that Truth is the daughter of 
Time, not of Authoritj^. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 331 

amongst tliem of transmitting secret information, and, as we 
think, cardinal points of religious doctrine. 

For, examine, trace, catalogue as we may, we never get away 
from these chief and dominant ideas and meditations of Bacon 
upon the unity and diversity and universality of God, in religion 
as in nature — of the beauty, love, and order in creation — that 
love and truth are inseparable — that the Bible and nature are 
God's two great lights, the greater light to rule the day of 
spiritual life, the lesser light to rule the night of intellectual 
darkness — and that man himself is the little world in which 
the whole great world, the universe, is reflected and mirrored. 

Never for an instant are we allowed to forget that every good 
gift, every power or faculty of soul or intellect, the reason and 
speech which raise man above the level of the brute, are " God's 
gifts," to be used to His glory, and for the benefit of His creat- 
ures, and that all mankind is bound together by chains and 
links of sympathy and brotherhood, as every part of knowledge 
is linked in a never-ending circle. 

One more mark should be especially noted, for, although it is 
amongst the oldest, it was used all through the life of Bacon, 
not only in England, but in books and letters from abroad. 
" The open hand " is variously interpreted of faith and trust, 
or of generosity and open-handed liberality ; usually these quali- 
ties in their best examples all go togethei'. To the open hand 
is sometimes added the trefoil, or the key, symbol of secresy, 
or the figure 3, perhaps again an allusion to the Trinity. Every 
variety of size, proportion or disproportion, is to be seen in 
these hands, which diverge into other forms, puzzling to the 
copyist. Sometimes the five fingers spread out into rays, or a 
crown, at other times contract, so as to suggest a vase. The 
most notable alteration (the addition of a star) seems to have 
taken place in the time of Sir Nicholas Bacon, and it was re- 
tained long afterwards. 

Mr. Sotheby says that an open hand tvith a star at the top 
was in use as early as 1530, and probably gave the name to the 
" baud " paper, 



332 FRANCIS BACON 

This remark again encourages the erroneous idea that these 
are trade-marks, rather than the secret signs of a religious, liter- 
ary society, which they surely were. The addition of " the star 
on the top " (sometimes not a star, but a rose or a fleur-de-lis) 
was made just about the time when the other " Baconian " 
marks began to appear, in the time, that is, of Sir Nicholas 
Bacon, i 

The few specimens given in Plate III. are chiefly selected from 
a very large number which are found in the paper of one of 
Anthony Bacon's chief correspondents — Anthony Stauden. 
These letters were written from various parts of the continent, 
and under various names. Sometimes they are signed La Faye, 
at other times Audrieu Sandal. Under the latter name Standen 
was cast into prison in Spain, upon suspicion of being apolitical 
spy. The charge was disproved, and his release effected, ap- 
parently by the Bacons' influence, but Standeu's history has yet 
to be written. Other specimens given from the Harleian, Cot- 
tonian, Lansdowue, and Hatton Finch MSS., at the British Mus- 
eum, are in documents concerning the Bacons and their friends. 
They are chiefly in letters or documents sent from abroad, or iu 
copies. 

The secresy attaching to all these matters is the strongest 
proof that at sometime or other there was fZaw^rer involved in 
the writing, printing, and disseminating of books. Now, when 
there is no such danger, in free England and America at least, 
the secrets would certainly be made public, were it not that the 
vows of a secret society, vows perhaps heedlessly and igno- 
rautly taken by the large proportion of members, prevent the 
better educated and more fully initiated amongst them from 
revealing things which must, one would think, be, at the ijresent 
hour, matters chiefly of history or of antiquarian curiosity — 



1 Joel Munsell specifies 1539 as the "era" of the "ancient water-mark of 
the hand with a star at the fingers' ends." He does not mention that the star 
was then a new addition. By 1559 this sign must have become sufllciently fa- 
miliar to excite no inquiry, for in that year Richard Tottel printed " in Flete 
Strete, at the signe of the Hand and Starre," a translation of Seneca's Troas, mad^ 
\)Y Jasper Haj'wood. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 333 

immense aids to the study of " Elizabetlian" and " Jacobean" 
literature, but hurtful to no one. 

" It is much to be regretted that in tracing so curious an art 
as that of the manufacture of modern paper, any definite con- 
clusion as to the precise time or period of its adoption should 
hitherto have proved altogether unattainable. The Royal Society 
of Sciences at Gottingen, in 1735 and 1763, offered considerable 
premiums for that especial object, but, unfortunately, all re- 
searches, however directed, were utterly fruitless." ^ 

So says our guide. But is it credible that in the history of me- 
chanical arts paper-making and printing are the only such 
mechanical arts which have no record of their own origin ? 

We cannot believe it. Some day, when the secret brother- 
hoods, especially the higher grades, shall have persuaded them- 
selves that "the time is ripe," or when narrow protectionist 
systems shall, liberally and pro bono publico, give way to free 
trade in knowledge (as they have given way to Francis Bacon's 
other great desiderata — freedom of thought and freedom of 
the press ) — then it will, we are convinced, be easy for those 
who hold the keys to unlock this closed door in the palace of 
Truth, and to let us know the rights about these precious and 
inoffensive arts and crafts. 



The following is a list of the water-marks which we have 
found in books previous to the Baconian period, or in MSS. or 
other documents. The paper seems to be all foreign, from mills 
chietly in Holland or Germany. Some of these figures were re- 
tained in the end of the sixteenth century and developed into 
other forms. Each figure seems to have been varied almost 
indefinitely. In our limited research we have seldom found two 
precisely alike, and there seem to be about sixty figures, not 
reckoning " nondescripts" and doubtful forms or variations: 

1. AxiMALS. Quadrupeds — Ape or Monkey, Bull, Cat (or 
Panther?), Dog (Hound or Talbot), Goat, Horse, Lamb (some- 

1 Herring, Paper and Papei'-mahing, 34. 



334 PMANCIS BACOi^ 

times with flag), Lion (rampant or passant), Panther, Pig, Hog, 
Swine, Stag (head or passant), Wolf. Birds. — Cocli, Ducli (or 
Goose?), Eagle (sometimes spread, or with 2 heads or 4 legs), 
Goose, Pelican, Swan. Fish. — Carp, Dolphin, Porpoise or Dol- 
phin. Bcptiles. — Lizard, Newt, Serpent. Mythical. — Dragon or 
Griffin, Mermaid, Phoenix, Unicorn. 

2. Fto?6'ers.— Bell-flower, Fleur-de-lis or Trefoil, Lily, Rose 
(five-petaled, or nondescript, four-petaled). Fruits. — Cherries, 
Fig, Grapes, Pear, Pomegranate. 

3. Miscellaneous. — Anchor (sometimes in a circle). Angel or 
Acolyte, Anvil, Ark, Bars with names, letters, etc.. Battle-axe, 
Bell, Bow and Arrows, Cross Bow, Bugle or Trumpet or Horn, 
Cap (see Fool's Cap), Cardinal's Hat, Cask or Water-hutt, Castle 
or Tower, i Chalice, Circle (sometimes with cabalistic figures). 
Compasses, Cords or Knot, Cornucopia? (or Horns), Crescent, 
Cross (Greek or Maltese), Crown, Fool's Cap, Globe, Golden 
Fleece, Hambuer, Hand, Heart, Horn, Bugle, Trumpet, Cornu- 
copia, Key, Crossed Keys, etc.. Ladder, Lamp, Lance or Spear, 
Letters (chiefly when alone, P and Y), Lotus (?), Mitre, Moon, 
Moose's Head, Mounts (3 or 7), Orb, Pope Seated, Reliquary (for 
Pot?), Scales on Balance, Shears or Scissors, Shell (or Fan?), 
Shield, Ship, Spear, Spiral line or Mercury's Rod, Star, Sun or 
flaming disk, Sword, Triangle with cross, etc.. Trumpet (see 
Horn), Vine (see Grapes), Water-butt (see Cask), Waves or 
Water, Wheel (sometimes toothed). 

1 N. B. — This seems to be a modification of the Mounts and to end in becom- 
ing candlesticks. 



CHAPTER XI. 

PAPER-MARKS IN AND AFTER THE TIME OF FRANCIS BACON. 

THE paper-marks which have hitherto been noticed were 
all used in manuscripts or printed books before Bacon be- 
gan to publish, and chiefly on the continent. Many of them 
were retained or adopted by the members of his society. But 
their use became immensely expanded and diversified, and it 
will be seen that the Baconian literature contains these paper- 
marks so mixed (even within the covers of one volume) as to 
dispose of the idea that a certain quantity of paper of one kind, 
or with the mark of one maker, was apportioned for the print- 
ing of a particular book. On the contrary, it seems to have 
been almost the rule to use in one volume paper with three dif- 
ferent marks, and each of these marks varied three or five 
times. This system of mixture, or of ringing the changes upon 
a certain set of patterns, makes it easy to establish a complete 
chain of connection between the books belonging to the society. 
Several of the marks are. used as well by foreign as by English 
printers. 

There are three paper-marks which we have learnt especially 
to associate with Francis Bacon and his brother Anthony. 
They are to be seen throughout the printed books which we 
ascribe to Francis, and one in particular is in the paper in 
which he and Anthony, and their most confidential friends, cor- 
responded, whether in England or abroad. These marks are : 

1. The bunch of grapes. 

2. The pot, or jug. 

3. The double candlesticks. 

The grapes and the pots appear, in somewhat rude forms, as 
early as the fourteenth century. The candlesticks seem in their 
earher stages to have been towers or pillars. As candlesticks, 

335 



336 FRAKCtS BACON 

even single, we have failed to fiud one earlier than 1580, and 
then in a MS, document. (Plate VIII. 1.) Even this example 
is rather suggestive of a castle than of a candlestick, and as 
castles and towers of unmistakable forms (and sometimes show- 
ing an affinity to the mounts spoken of in the last chapter) ap- 
pear in books published in Italy as early as the fourteenth cen- 
tury, it is possible that here we have some of the many scattered 
hnks in the chain of continuity in designs as well as ideas.i 

These three marks we associate with Francis Bacon: (1) 
Because few of his letters are without the pot, and none of his 
acknowledged books without one or more in the paper-marked 
editions. (2) Because in works whose matter, language, and 
other signs, internal and external, point to him as their author, 
one or more of these marks runs through the book. (3) Be- 
cause when the book is of the kind which Bacon " collected," 
by the aid of others, or revised and improved upon for other 
writers, one at least of these three patterns (used, perhaps, once 
or twice only in the whole book, or in the fly-leaves) acknowl- 
edges the touch of his hand. In such cases, the paper-marks in 
the body of the book are quite different, or there are none. To 
begin with the candlesticks, of which patterns may be seen on 
Plate VIII. These, we believe, were the latest and least frequent 
of the three, being used in the double form only in editions of 
Bacon's works published after his death. They are placed 
first because their meaning is, perhaps, the deepest of any, and 
the most far-reaching, being intimately connected with many of 
Bacon's greatest thoughts and " fixed ideas;" consequently, with 
a large section of his philosophy, to which the opening verses 
of the Bible are the text and the key-note : 

" In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. 
And the earth was without form and void, and darkness ivas 
upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the 
face of the waters. And God said, Let there he light, and there 
was light. " 

1 Sotheby says that gi-apes occur in books printed at Mentz. Strasburg, 
Nm-emberg, Basle, and Cologne, and that thej' were produced by Caxton, but 
are not in any book printed in the Netherlands. 



ANJ) HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 337 

These words are also the key-uote to Rosicrucianism. In the 
Fama Fraternitatis we read : 

" Our axiomata shall immovably remain unto the world's end, 
and also the world in her highest and last age shall not attain to 
see anything else ; for our ROTA takes her beginning from that 
day when God spake FIAT, and shall end when he shall speak 
PEREAT." 

Another Rosicrucian work thus expresses the same ideas: " In 
respect that God Almighty is the only immediate agent which 
actuates the matter (of the world), it will not be amiss to speak 
something of Him, that we may know the cause by His creatures, 
and the creatures by their cause. " Then follow some verses in 
which the poet compares his soul to a mole, " imprisoned in black 
entrenchments, . . . heaving the earth to take in air, " and 
" mewed from the light of day. " He prays : 

" Lord, guide her out of this sad night, 
And say once more, Let there be light." 

The same writer says, in another place : 

" We read that darknesse was upon the face of the deep, and the 
Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. Here you are 
to observe that, notwithstanding this processe of the Third Per- 
son, yet there was no light, but darknesse on the face of the 
deepe, illumination being the office of the Second (Person). 
Wherefore God also, when the matter was prepared by love for 
light, gives out his FIAT LUX, which was no creation, as most 
think, but an Emanation ofthe Word, in whom was life, and that life 
is the light of men. This is the light whereof St. John speaks, 
that it shines in the darknesse, and the darknesse comprehendeth it 
not. " 1 

That he ''may not be singular on this point," the author 
quotes Pimandrus, who, in the Book of the Creation, informs 
Trismegistus : " I am that Light, the Pure Intelligence, thy 
God." In another work the same Eugenius argues that, "to 
come to the point, these invisible, central artists are lights, 

I Anthroposophia Theoonagica. "Eugenius Philalethes." Published later as 
the work of Thomas Vauglaan. See "Vaughau's Magical Writings," reprinted 
and edited by E. A. Waite, 1888. Kedway (Kegau, Paul, Trubner & Co.) 



338 FEA^CIS BACON 

seeded by the First Light in that primitive emanation, or SIT 
LUX — Let there be light — which some falsely render FIAT 
LUX — Let light be made'. For nature is the voice of God, not 
a mere sound or command, but a substantial, active breath, 
proceeding from the Creator, and penetrating all things. " i 
In the Lumen cli Lumine the same author describes " The New 
Magical ^ Light Discovered and Communicated to the World. " 
Here we read of " a phantastio circle, within which stands a 
lamp typifying the light of nature, the secret caudle of God, 
which he hath tinned in the elements. It burns but is not 
seen, shining in a dark place. Every naturall body is a kind of 
black Ian thorne; it carries this candle within it: but the light 
appears not; it is eclipsed by the grossness of the matter. The 
effect of this light is apx^arent in all things, but the light itself 
is denied, or else not followed. The great Avorld hath the sun 
for his life and candle. According to the absence or presence 
of this fire, all things in the world flourish or wither." 

In the " Fasciculus Chemicus, or Chymical Collections made 
English by James Hasolle, " 3 there is a prayer for the Intellectual 

^Anima Magica Abscondlta. Eugenius Philaletlies. Ed. A. E. "Waite. Red- 
way. 

2 We must not allow ourselves to bo puzzled or misled by the use of language 
purposely adopted by the professors of the New Philosophy in order outwardly 
to accord iu some degieo with the jargon of the alchemists. Bacon explains 
Toiy clearly his view of magic in tlio true sense. " The chief business of the 
Persian magic (so much celebrated) was to watch the correspondences between 
the architectures and fabrics of things natural and things civil. . . . Neither 
are these all similUudes, but plainly the footsteps of nature treading or printing 
upon different subjects and matters. ... A thing of excellent use fur dis- 
]jlayinff the unity of nature, which is supposed to be the office of Primitive 
Philosophy." — (De Aii(j. iii. 1.) 

" I must stipulate that magic, which has long been used in a bad sense, bo 
again restored to its ancient and honourable meaning. For among the 
Persians magic was taken for a sublime wisdom, and the knowledge of the 
uwiversal consents of things, and so the three kings who came from the East to 
worship Christ were called by the names of the Magi. I, however, under- 
stand it as the science of hidden forms [inherent natures) to the production of 
wonderful operations; and by uniting (as they say) actives with passives, dis- 
plays the wonderful works of nature." — (10. iii. 5). Natural magic, in short, 
displays not only the unity of nature, but also the tmiversal harmony of things ; 
the mingling of heaven and earth — Bacon's prime object. 

3 An anagram for the name of Ellas Ashmole, the celebrated Freemason and 
Rosicrucian antiquarian and historian, boru, Lichfield, 1G17. 



AND ms SECRET SOCIETY. 339 

Light strongly resembling well-known prayers of Bacon, and on 
the hieroglyphical frontispiece to this curious book is another 
allusion to the mole as a type of the soul struggling towards Light 
and Freedom.i Amongst many other emblems there is an ash- 
tree, from which rises a scroll, surmounted by a square (or 
" Templar " ) cross, a sun and a moon. On the scroll is written : 
" Quod est superior est sicut inferius. " Beneath the tree is seen 
a mole digging, and the motto : " Fraximus in Silvis pulcher- 
ima, Talpa in Terris operissima. " 

In the lower margin of the picture the device is thus 
expounded : 

" These Hieroglyphics vaile the rigorous Bcames 
Of an unbounded Soul : The Scrowle & Schemes 
The full Interpreter : But now's conceald, 
Who through (Euigmas lookes, is so rereald." 

In the Neiv Atlantis (which so-called fragment of Bacon's is 
the same as the Journey to the Land of the Rosicrucians),^ we 
read of a great pillar of light rising from the sea a great way 
towards heaven ; and on the top of it, a large cross of light, which 
was regarded as a heavenly sign. " One of the wise men (of the 
society°of the Kosicruclans), after offering up prayer to God for 
his grace in showing him this miracle, causes his boat to be 
softly rowed towards the pillar, but ere he came near, the pillar 
and cross of light brake up, and cast itself abroad into a firma- 
ment of many stars, which also soon vanished. " The wise man 
presently informs the travellers to his land : " You see we main- 
tain a trade, not for gold, silver or jewels, nor for any commod- 
ity of matter, but only for God's first creature, tvhich tvas light, 
to have light, I say, of the growth of all parts of the worid. " 



1 Frequent allusions of this sort remind us of Hamlet comparing; the Ghost 
(or Soul) of his father to " an old mole " working in the ground [Hair let. i. 5) 
and of the " blind mole casting copped hills to heaven " m his efforts toward 
air and light. (See Pericles, i. 1, 98-102.) 

2 This last, though published twenty years later than the Ne/r Allands, ap- 
pears from its language to be the first edition. The Atlantis wnKhy Bacons 
order, published after his death by his secretary, Dr. Rawley. It is inserted 
without date, though with separate title page, between the Sylva bi/lmram, 
1640, and the Eist. Life and Death. 



340 PHANCIS BAGOy 

The merchants whom the Athvuteaus or Rosicruciaus send 
forth they call " ^^lerchants of Light," and in " certain hymns 
and services of laud and thanks to God for his marvellous works," 
there are, they say, forms of prayers invoking His aid and bless- 
ing ^^for the illumination of our labours, and the turning them 
into good and holy uses." 

Can we read these words without recalling one of Bacon's 
most beautiful prayers, part of which concludes the " Plan " of 
the Novum Organum ? i 

" Thou, Father! who gavest the visibleligbtasthe first-born 
of Thy creatures, and didst pour into man the intellectual light 
as the top and consummation of Thy workmanship, be pleased to 
protect and govern this work, which, coming from Thy goodness, 
returneth to Thy glory. " 

In another prayer, we find the great student earnestly entreat- 
ing that 

" Human things may not prejudice such as are divine ; neither 
that from the unlocking of the gates of sense, and tJie kindling 
of a greater natural light, anything of incredulitg or intellectual 
night may arise in our minds towards the divine mysteries." 2 

Bacon is never weary of finding analogies between the bright- 
ness of heaven and. the light of truth, knowledge, heavenly 
thoughts, "heaven-born poesy." In the dullest minds some 
spark, some glimmer of intelligence may, he thinks, be kindled, 
and the faintest rays will penetrate into darkest places. 

" How far that little caudle slieds its beams ! 
So shines a good deed iu a naught}- world." 

It would be a grand thing, he said, " if a man could succeed 
in kindling a light in nature — a light that should, by its very 
rising, touch and illuminate knowledge; " and he describes the 
ancient churches as " torches in the dark. " In the Wisdom of 
the 'Ancients, suggestive metaphors are used, or fables expounded 
of Vulcan and the efficacy of fire, and of the games of the torch 

1 Published after his death in Baconiana,hj his ft-iend, Dr. Tonison, and Ijy 
him entitled " The "Writer's Prayer." See Speddiug, Works, vii. p. 2.59. 

2 "The Student's Prayer." lb. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 3-Ll 

instituted to Prometlieus, in wbicli the object is to keep the torch 
alight and in motion. TLie torcli is like the candlestick, the 
means by which the light is maintained and transmitted; it 
usually symbolises the mind of man, his "pure intelligence." 
'' Solomon, " Bacon says, " was one of the clearest burning lamps 
whereof he himself speaketh . . . when he saith, the spirit of 
man is the lamp of God ivherewith He searcheth all inwardness. " 
There are men whom fortune has " set on a hill;" they have 
position, x^erhai^s, as well as powers of mind; wealth as well as 
ability. These must act as beacons,^ to guide the traveller from 
afar; others may perform the humbler but still useful offices of 
lamps, lanterns, tapers, candles. The slightest eftbrts, well di- 
rected, should not be despised, and we cannot dispense with 
even the soft radiance of the " watch candle," or the shy, retir- 
ing helper, who never will assert himself, and prefers to work 
unrecognised — 

" Like the glowworm in the night, 
The which hath fire in darkness, none in light." 2 

There are those who, though incapable of emitting the light 
of original thought from themselves, can yet afford mechanical 
help to others. Such lowly but wihing spirits are compared to 
" candle-holders," or torch-bearers, who do not merely look on 
whilst others labour, but who shed light from the torch which 
has been put into their hand. There were and are a multitude 
of such candle-holders in the society of which we speak. 

In collating the Baconian and Eosicrucian works, no one can 
fail to observe the noble spirit of self-sacrifice, and disregard of 
personal interest, which jjervades them. 

" Be not as a lamp that shineth to others, and yet seeth not 
itself, but as the Eye of the World, that both carrieth and useth 

1 It is worthy of notice that the Bacon family in early times spelt their namcf 
Becon or Beucun. Some of them seem to have written under this name, and 
there is a work by Thomas Becon, 1 563-4, in which, on the title page of the sec- 
ond volume, his name changes from Becon to Beacon. Francis" Bacon, who 
"could not pass by a jest," cannot have failed to see this opportunity for a 
quibble. 

8 Pericles, ii. 3. 



342 FRANCIS BACON 

light." 1 •' For," says Bacou, in another place, " the sense is 
God's lamp, " 2 and he gives the King credit for being that which 
he desired him to be, " a clear-burning lamp. " 3 

In the Novum Organum, unwise experiments are compared to 
a " mere groping in the dark," but the true method of experi- 
ence first lights a candle, and then, by means of the candle, 
shows the way."* The communication of knowledge is de- 
scribed as that " of one candle with another, which lights up at 
once." 5 This is somewhat the same as Bacon's other figure of 
" handing down the lamp of tradition. " He urges men to unite 
in one great effort, rather than to fritter away their powers in 
small detached experiments and weak works. " Were it not 
better for a man in a fair room to set up one great light or 
branching candlestick of lights, than to go about with a small 
watch-candle in every corner? " ^ 

" For mere contemplation, which should be finished in itself 
without casting beams of light and heat upon society, assuredly 
divinity knows it not. " '^ 

^'■Heaven doth with us as we lolth torches do, 
Not ll(jht them for ourselves: for if our virtues 
Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike 
As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch'd 
But to fine issues." 8 

The first twenty-six Shakespeare sonnets repeat these senti- 
ments. The poet reproaches his friend, 

" That thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, 
• Feed'st thy life's flame with self-substantial fire ; " 9 

and, although he continually changes the figure, the same idea is 
worked out in many diflerent ways. He speaks of the enthusi- 
asm which gives fire to our nation, 10 and which sest men's hearts on 
fire; of the fires of love, hatred, zeal, or sedition, which glow, 
burn, smoulder, are blown up into flame, or smothered and ex- 
tinguished ; 11 sparks which fly abroad lighting upon free and no- 

1 Gesta Grai/nrum. Comp. Part ii. Tamhurlaine the Great, iv. 3; 1. 88; v. .3, 
L 3, 158. 2 ^rat. H'ist. x. Prof. 3 Speech. 4 Xoo. Onj. i. 82. 5 Ess. of Sphinx. 
^ Ad fit. of L. i. 1. Comp. with the above. ^ Be Aug. vii. 1. 8 See M. M. i. 1, 
29-40. 9 Son. i. 10 Of Calling Pari. 1615. U Eitt. Hen. VII. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 343 

ble minds and spirits apt to be kindled ; sparks of affection, of 
grace, "liberty, spirit, and edge. "^ " Jf ?/ heart," he says, in 
one of Iiis prayers, " hath been an unquenched coal on thine 
altar. " 

" Have a care," says one of the councillors in Bacon's device, 
" The Order of the Helmet," " that the light of your state do 
not go out, or burn dim or obscure. " Bacon was continually 
trying to urge upon the sovereign for the time being, her or his 
duties and responsibilities in regard to the handing on of the 
lamp. He received little encoiwagement from Elizabeth, but by 
dint of impressing upon the mind of the King, not only that he 
ought to assist learning, but that he tvas learned, and capable of 
doing what he pleased in the fields of literature and science, he 
seems to have succeeded in making that dull monarch appear, 
and believe himself to be, something like the bright creature 
which Bacon so earnestly desires that he should become. There 
'* are joined in your Majesty f/^e light of nature, the light of learn- 
ing, and the light of GotVs holy spirit (and that) fourth light, 
the light of a most wise and well-compounded counsel. "2 

A tvatch-candlc is the emblem of " care and observation.^' In 
a letter to King James (May 31, 1612) Bacon says : " My good 
old mistress was pleased to call me her watch-candle, because it 
pleased her to say I did continually burn (and yet she suffered 
me to waste almost to nothing). " Elsewhere he says : " There 
should be a sort of night-watch set over nature, as showing her- 
self rather by night than by day. For these may be regarded 
as night studies, by reason of the smallness of the candle and its 
continual burning. " 3 

Amongst our candlesticks is one (Plate VIII.) from the Observa- 
tions on Ccesar^s Commentaries of 1609. This volume has on its 
title-page a medallion portrait of a young man, sixteen or seven- 
teen years of age, who bears a striking likeness to the juvenile 
portraits of Francis Bacon. These Observations on " those 
most excellent Commentaries that Caesar writ "'^ are published 

'i-Advt. ii., De Am;, viii. 2, etc. ^ Pacification of live Church. ^ Nov. 
Org. ii. 4. 4 2 Hen. VI. iv. 7. 



344 FRANCIS BACON 

with the name of " Clement Edmundes, Remembrancer of the 
Cittie of London. " To occupy such a position Edmundes must 
have been a man of some standing; his, therefore, cannot he the 
boyish portrait which figures at the top of this title-page. May 
we not rather believe it to be that of the youth who for seven years 
devoted himself, heart and soul, to the study of the ancient 
authors, and who thus speaks of these very Commentaries, with 
which we see that he was more than ordinarily acquainted "l i 

" As for Julius Caesar, the excellency of his learning needeth 
not to be argued from his education, or his company, or his 
speeches; but in a farther degree doth declare itself in his writ- 
ings and works; whereof some are extant and permanent, and 
some have unfortunately perished. For first . . . there is left 
unto us that excellent history of his oivn tears, which he entitled 
only a Commentary, . . . wherein all succeeding times have 
admired the solid weight of matter, and the real passages and 
lively images of actions and persons, expressed in the greatest 
propriety of words and perspicacity of narration that ever was. "2 

The one little candlestick referred to is the only one of the 
kind which as yet we have met with ; it may, however, be ex- 
pected that other examples will be found in early editions of 
some of the boyish works pubhshed by his friends ; for we sup- 
pose this figure to represent some utterance or aspiration of the 
youthful student, that he might himself be a humble light, or 
candle-holder, for others. This conjecture is not unreasonable, 
seeing that immediately after his death, and for fifty years sub- 
sequently, his immediate friends and followers developed and 
made conspicuous use of this symbol in editions of his ac- 
knowledged works, and in others which we ascribe to him. 

And would any one find it easy to devise an emblematic 
water-mark more suitable for works such as Francis Bacon en- 
gaged in than this of the double candlesticks, with their 
varied, " bifold " meanings ? Once perhaps the mounts of 
knowledge, then rocks, castles, towers difQcult to scale or 

1 Again wo insert a saving clauso in regard to " Anthonie," the " deare 
brother," fellow-student in youth, twin in mind and face, who uiay prove to 
have been the translator or'inditor of these " Commentaries." 2 See a long 
criticism, from which the above is coudeased — AdmncarmiU of Learning, i, 1, 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. ' 345 

suvmomit — pillars of Hercules, bounding and obstructing 
human knowledge and aspiration — they are now converted 
into pillars of light, beacons for guidance and encouragement to 
distressed and weary travellers. They are lights of truth and 
beauty. The divine light of the Holy Spirit and the light of 
the human intellect. The light of God's word and the light of 
nature. God's " two witnesses,- ... the two candlesticks 
standing before the God of the Earth." i 

In combination witU the candlesticks are fleur-de-lis, trefoil, 
pearls, and other symbols of the Holy Spirit ; sometimes an 
E C or C R ; almost invariably grapes piled in a pyramid or 
diamond. The bunch of grapes, alone, or in combination with 
other figures, is the second great mark in Bacon's books ; he 
has explained their symbolism : 

" As wines which flow gently from the first treading of the 
grape are sweeter than those that are squeezed out by the wine- 
press, because these last have some taste of the stones and skin 
of the grape ; so those doctrines are very sweet and healthy 
which flow from a gentle pressure of the Scripture, and are not 
wrested to controversies and commonplaces." 2 

Again : " I find the wisdom of the ancients to be like grapes 
lU-trodden : something is squeezed out ; but the best parts are 
left behind;" 3 and he likens the laws to " the grapes that, be- 
ing too much pressed, yield an hard and unwholesome wine. " 
His own " method, as wholesome as sweet, " * tolerant of other 
■men's opinions, whilst firm in his own, appears in these words : 

" I may say, then, of myself (since it marks the distinction so 
truly), it cannot be that we should think alike, tvhen one drinks 
ivater and the other wine. . . . Now, other men have, in the 
matter of sciences, drunk a crude liquor like water, either flow- 
ing spontaneously from the understanding, or drawn up by 
logic, as by wheels from a well. Whereas I pledge mankind in 
a liquor pressed from countless grapes — from grapes ripe and 
fully seasoned, collected in clusters, and gathered, and then 
squeezed in the press, and then, finally, purified and clarified 
in the vat." ^ 



1 Eevelatlous, xi. 3, 4. 2 De Aug. is.- 1. 3 CoiiUvcemes of the Church, 
4 mm. XI. 2. 5 Nuc. Org. i, VZi, 



346 • FRANCIS BACON 

And here, in his books, are the grapes in clusters or " collec- 
tions " ready for the " first vintage." Books of all kinds, and 
in all degrees of "crudity," will be found to contain these 
famous symbolic paper-marks, of which only a few examples 
can here be given. Pray, my readers, heed them, note them, 
and add to the list appended to this chapter. If not in one 
edition, yet in another, of- every work of Bacon, writ by the 
light of God's two candlesticks, these grapes will be found. He 
was at first treading the wine-press alone, and his efforts were 
those pioneer labours often so painful, and so unrewarded to 
the performer, but which " smooth successors their way." 

" Since truth," he says, " will sooner come out from error than 
from confusion, I think it expedient that the understanding 
should be permitted" {after '^ a due presentation of instances,^' 
or collection of facts on the subject in hand) " to make a kind of 
essay, which I call the Indulgence of the Understanding, or the 
Commencement of Interpretation, or the First Vintage. " Then 
he proceeds to press, out of the few facts which he has been able 
to collect, " a first vintage," on the nature of heat. 

Perhaps we may gain hints as to the degree of completion 
which Bacon considered that certain of his works had attained, 
by the number of the grapes, or the perfection of the diamond 
shape in which many of the bunches are arranged. In this dia- 
mond we are reminded of the " heavenly jewel " of knowledge, 
the reason and speech which Bacon says is especially the 
divine gift to man. Where there is not this form, a fleur- 
de-lis or the letters R C have been almost invariably found. 
The latter, often combined with another letter, are con- 
jectured to be a signature of the Rosicrucian brother 
by whose aid the work was produced; as, for instance, in 
Cynthia's Revels, two distinct forms of I R C are found, which 
may mean " lonson, Rosy Cross," i The same letters are in a 
bar in the last page of Shakespeare, 1623, but they are difler- 
ently arranged — R C I, and a reversed C, as may be seen in 

1 Often the letters are very confused or inverted, or written so that tliey can 
only bo read in a mirror. This complicates matters. We do not protend to give 
positive opinions about these things. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 347 

Plate XI. 7, Plate XII. 46, 52. It is well known how Ben Jouson 
laboured in the production of that famous folio. But, with re- 
gard to the oit-xQ'^Q-citQd fleur-de-lis, again we are reminded that 
the truth which we express is itself divine ; that it is of the 
nature of the Holy Spirit, who Himself guides us unto all truth. 
" To one is given hy the Spirit the word of wisdom ; to another, 
the word of knowledge, by the same Spirit; to another, faith ; . . . 
to another, the gifts of healing ; ... to another, prophecy ; to 
another, divers Muds of tongues; to another, the interpretation of 
tongues, but all these worketh that self-same Spirit, dividing to 
every man severally as he will." i 

The grape, more than any other fruit, furnished Bacon's 
briglit imagination with images by which to explain his ideas of 
the cheering and stimulating effects of true knowledge; its 
tendency as a vine to spread and ramify, and in its fruits to 
cluster. As in many places he shows that all sciences bang to- 
getlier like links in one great chain, so here he finds that though 
" chance discovereth new inventions by one and one, science 
finds them by clusters, " 2 and " axioms rightly discovered . . . 
produce works, not here or there one, but in clusters.''^ 3 True 
to himself in his longing after truth, and his aversion to con- 
troversy, he exclaims: " God grant that we may contend with 
other churches, as the vine ivith the olive, which of us shall bear 
best fruit ; and not as the briar with tbe thistle, which of us is 
most unprofitable. " * 

When we come to a consideration of title-pages and their 
hieroglyphic illustrations, we shall again see the vino in full 
bearing, supported by pillars or props, the powerful or wealthy 
authorities in church and state, or the munificent " benefactors" 
of private life, who, though they could, perhaps, not contribute 
to the clusters or the growth of the vine, could help to protect 
and maintain it. For, Bacon again explains, " the sympathy 
of preservation is as . . . the vine tvhich will creep towards a 
stake or proii that stands near it." 5 



1 Cor. xii. 8-11. "i lasln. Nat 11. 3 Gl. Jnstii. Plan, rep. Nov. Org. i. 70. 
4 Controversies of the Church. 5 Aj)olo(jia, ICOS. 



348 FBANCIS BACON 

Like almost all of Bacon's chosen or adopted symbols, the 
vine, as the emblem of truth, is very ancient. Indian mythol- 
ogy represents Osiris (the Grecian Bacchus) as a wonderful con- 
queror who travelled over the face of the whole earth, winning 
territories wherever he came, yet to the advantage of those 
whom he subdued. Here is Bacon's figure of " taking all knowl- 
edge to be his province, " for the benefit of humanity. 

Osiris is said to be the son of Ehea {the Holy Spirit), and his 
chief attendants were Pan, Nature ; a dog, Experience ; Maro, a 
great planter of the vine (of knowledge); and Triptolemus, much 
skilled in hushandry. He is described with the Nine Muses and 
the Sciences in his train. It is needless to follow the mythical 
Osiris into his various connections with Apollo, music, songs, 
dancing, and with the arts of speech and healing. All these 
spring from truth, nature, and cultivation of the mind and soul — • 
(hushandry); and that the vine was from the earliest times the 
symbol of truth, is certain from many jjassages of the Holy 
Scripture, where Jesus Christ even speaks of himself under this 
figure. " I am the true vine, and my Father is the husband- 
man. Every branch in me that beareth not fruit, he purgeth it, 
that it may bring forth more fruit. " i 

The poet philosopher has collected his clusters, and it remains 
to express them, and to store up the precious juice so that in 
due season it may be poured into other men's vessels. 

In the Promus he condenses into two words an adage of Eras- 
mus, " Vasts — Fons. " 2 The man who can originate nothing, 
but who draws all from others is the vase; the source whence 
he draws is the fountain. Bacon adopts this notion, and ex- 
pands it in all directions, humbly appropriating to himself the 
functions of the cistern, bucket, vase, pot, or pitcher. " I am, 
as I formerly said, but a bucket and cistern to that fountain, " 
and so he wrote in a Latin letter to Trinity College, Cam- 
bridge : 



1 John, XV. 1. And see Ezekiel, xvii. 5-10. Psl. Ixxx. 14, 15. Canticles, i. 
16; vi. 11; vii. 12; yiii. 11-12. Jer. ii. 21. Rey. xiy. 18, Matt, xx, 1-7, etc, 
8 Promu.'!, 698, from ^ra^: Adm/ia, 292, 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 349 

" All things, and all the growths thereof, are due to their be- 
ginnings. And, therefore, seeing that I drew my beginnings of 
knoioledge from your fountains, I have thought it right to return 
to you the increase of the same. " 

Elsewhere he says that " the mind of man is not a vessel 
sufiflciently capacious to comprehend knowledge without helps," 
and that the " Divine water of knowledge is first forced up into 
a cistern and thence fetched and drawn for use, or else it is re- 
ceived in buckets and vessels immediately where it springeth. " 
" Divinity, " he adds, " hath been reduced to an art, as into a cis- 
tern, and the streams of doctrine fetched and derived from 
thence. " i 

The means for the advancement of learning, he says, include 
three things : 

" The places of learning, the books of learning, and the per- 
sons of the learned. For as water, whether it be the dew of 
heaven, or the springs of the earth, easily scatters and loses 
itself in the ground, except it be collected into some receptacle, 
where it may, by union, consort, comfort, and sustain itself (and 
for that cause the industry of man has devised aqueducts, cis- 
terns, and pools), ... so this excellent liquor of knowledge, 
whether it descend from divine inspiration, or spring from 
human sense, would soon perish and vanish into oblivion, if it 
were not preserved in books, traditions, and conferences, and 
specially in places appointed for such matters. " 

These passages are sufficient to show the drift of Bacon's 
ideas with regard to the vase or pitcher symbol. It is to remind 
us that the heavenly liquor of knowledge must not be wasted, 
but stored up and poured forth for the use and delight of others. 
This pitcher or pot is impressed not only on the private letters 
of Francis and Anthony Bacon — or perhaps it is safer to say, 
of the Bacon family — and their confidential correspondents, but 
on the pages of nearly every English edition of works acknowl- 
edged as " Bacon's," published before the eighteenth century. 

1 Observe the frequency of the vase as a decoration in the architecture of our 
great buildings dedicated to art, science, or literature. Although often, in mod- 
ern edifices, private houses, etc., this symbol is used ignorantly and as a mere 
ornament, it was not so two or three hundred years ago, nor is it always so at 
the present day. 



350 FBANCiS BACON 

There are certain accessories to the Baconian pitchers, one at 
least being always present: (1) Arising sun, formed by the 
cover or round top of the pot; (2) five rays; (3) pearls; (4) fleur-de- 
lis; (5) a four-petaled flower, or a Maltese cross; (G) a moon or 
crescent; (7) the bull's horns in a crown; (8) grapes; (9) a dia- 
mond, triangle, ellipse, or heart. Sometimes there are two han- 
dles distinctly formed, as SS ; often on the body of the pot are 
letters — they maybe Initials, as A B, and F B, often found in the 
correspondence of the brothers; or S S, Sanctum Sanctorum, 
etc.; E C, Rosy Cross; F or F F, Frater or Fratres; G G, Grand 
Geometrician — God, according to Freemason books. 

Hesj). In the midst of Solomon's Temple there stands a G, 

A letter for all to read and see ; 

But few there be tliat understand 

"What means the letter G. 
Ex. My friend, if you pretend to be of this Fraternity 

You can forthwith and rightly tell what means that letter G. 

This letter was associated with the third sacred name 
of God in Hebrew — ^Ghadol, Magnus; but also the Masonic 
CyclopcEdia refers it to the Syriac Gad, the German Gott, the 
English God, all de;"ived from the Persian Goda, signifying 
Himself. The reference to Geometry is to be seen in the con- 
cluding lines of the above doggerel, which, says the encyclopae- 
dist, may go for what it is worth : 

" By letters four and science five, 
This G aright doth stand, 
In a due art and proportion ; 
Ton have your answer, friend." 

The pot was one of the earliest paper-marks; in examples as 
old as 1352 we And it extremely rude in outline, like an ill-drawn 
pint-pot of the present day, or of the same proportions, round- 
bodied. 1 Perhaps the original mark alluded to the pot of 
manna said to have been laid up in the Ark of the Covenant by 
Aaron. This pot of manna is mentioned in the " Royal Arch 

1 See " Etudes mr les FUiyraves des Pajriers," E. Midioux ct A. Matton, 1868. 



AKD iilS SECRET SOCIETY. 351 

Degree" in Masonry, but the author of the Royal Masonic Cyclo- 
pcedia rejects it, saying that it has no significance. In later 
specimens than Caxton's the pot becomes usually raore graceful, 
and more like the sacramental chalice, yet without having any 
of the accessories enumerated above. 

If Francis Bacon or his father, Sir Nicholas, helped to devise 
new or to develop old symbolic water-marks, this idea of a pot of 
manna would commend itself to them, lending itself easily to 
the further development of pots and jugs whence issue bunches 
of grapes — the fruits of knowledge ; pearls, the dew of heaven — 
Wisdom; manna, the spiritual food, all symbols of the Holy 
Spirit, Truth, the gifts of reason and sweet speech, which link 
themselves together in such passages as the following from the 
Natural History, or Sylva Sylvarum : i 

" There be three things for sweetness : sugar, honey, manna. 
... I have heard from one that was industrious in husbandry 
that the labour of the bee is about the wax, and that he hath 
known in the beginning of May honeycombs empty of honey, and 
within a fortnight, when the siveet deivs/all, filled like a cellar." 

A note inSpeddiug's edition of the Works says here : " Bacon'' s 
informant took the same vieiv of the matter as Aristotle, and proba- 
bly was directly or indirectly influenced by his opinion. Accord- 
ing to Aristotle, the bees manufacture the ivax from flowers, but 
simply collect the honey tvhich falls from the sky." 

The " informant, " we think, was probably Aristotle himself, 
and Bacon was here thinking of his own husbandry and of the 
hive in which he made the frame or comb, wherein the labour 
consisted, ivhilst his busy working bees merely collected the deiv of 
knoivledge without any great exertion to themselves, but thus 
enabling him rapidly to store up and methodise it for the advance- 
ment of learning. 

" It is reported by some of the ancients that there is a tree 
called Occhus in the valleys of Hyrcania that distilleth honey in 
the mornings. It is not unlike that the saps and tears of some 

1 This work, as has been said, is considered by the present writer to be a mas- 
terpiece of ambiii:uous writing — a study in metaphor and simile from beginning 
to end. These extracts concerning manna are thus interpreted. See Emhleiris, 
etc. 



352 FRANCIS BACON 

trees may be sweet. It may also be that some sweet juices may 
be concocted out oi fruits to the thickness oi sugar. The like- 
liest are the raisins of the sun [i. e., grapes']. The manna of 
Calabria . . . is gathered from the /ea/ of the mulberry tree, &m^ 
not upon such mulberry trees as groiv in the valleys. Manna fall- 
eth upon the leaves by night, as other dews do. . . . Certainly it 
were not amiss to observe a little the deivs that fall upon trees or 
herbs growing upon mountains ; for it may be many dews 
fall that spend before they come to the valleys ; and I suppose 
that he that would gather the best May-dew/or medicine should 
gather it from the hills. " i 

Here, as in the preceding passage, Bacon had in his mind the 
collecting of manna and other of the sweetest things ivhich fall 
chiefly from heaven, and. the " distilling " and " concocting " 
them into poetry — "sugared sonnets," "honeyed words," 
with the dew of heaven, filled with thoughts and words sweeter 
than manna. 

What is the idea connected with all those crescent moons? 
It is, we think, a very deep and comprehensive thought, and to 
illustrate it we must turn to books of Hindu mythology, to the 
Rabbinical writings, and to the Masonic symbolism drawn, it 
would seem, from those ancient springs of mysticism. 2 

In the second Book of Kings, xxiii. 5, it is said that Josiah 
put down them that burnt incense unto Baal {the Sun) and to 
the Moon, and Mazaloth. This word signifies, literally, the 
flowing or distillations which emanated from the spirit of tvaters. 
And again, in Isaiah Ixv. 11, we read, " Ye are they that pre- 
pare a table for God, and that furnish an offering for Meni, " 
that is, for the Holy Spirit, called plurally the dispensers or dis- 
tributers of the manna or bread from Heaven. 3 

Here, then, the moon and the dew, pearls, or heavenly food, 
are associated. "Meni," the Holy Spirit, was adored by the 
Arabians under the name of Ma Nah ; and this adds great in- 
terest to the symbolic miracle of the supernatural feeding of the 

^ Sifloa Siilrarum, G12, 781. 2 See for detailed particulars "The Book of 
God,"'Vol. i.'9-68; ii. 102, 200, iii. 31, 35, 205, 316, 324. 559. 

3 This is the roadiuj; in the margin. Old editions print troop for " God," and 
" that niimher" for " Meni," thus obscuring the sense. The marginal readings 
of modern Bibles give the version of our text above. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 353 

Israelites during tlieir stay in tlie wilderness. The manna with 
which they were supported was symbolic of the Ma Nah — the 
nourisher, the comforter, the Holy Spirit of God. Surely, living 
as they were iu Arabia (the very country where Ma Nah was 
adored) the Israelites must have been well aware of the symbolic 
or mystical meaning of the heavenly food which was for many 
months their daily bread. 

Then again we read in the Bible that the Ark of the Covenant 
(the sacrod chest or coffer which was deposited in the most holy 
place of the Tabernacle and the Temple) was made the re- 
ceptacle of the original tables of the law, of a quantity of manna 
in a golden pot, and of Aaron's rod that had budded. Here is, 
therefore, a connection between manna and a pot. The manna 
was found by the Israelites in the early morning, after the dew 
had evaporated, and before the sun had sufficiently risen to 
melt it. Manna, the deiv, and the rise of the sun are thus con- 
nected. An omer of the manna was preserved as a memorial in 
the sanctuary, testifying to God's power and willingness to give 
food for the subsistence of his people, in the most apparently 
destitute circumstances. 

The names MeniandMazaloth,usedbyIsaiah;i both mean the 
" Holy Spirit of God, " the " Bread Dispensers. " Meni was also 
Mona, and Mon (Welsh), the Sacred Mountain of Paradise; she 
was Mens, the Everlasting Mind, the Logos of the Gentiles. 

Now observe the highly-figurative nature of the passage lately 
quoted from the Sylva Sylvarum. The manna, the sweet dews 
which fall in the stillness of the night, are not found upon such 
mulberry trees as grow in the valleys, but upon trees and herbs 
growing upon the mountains, the sacred hills and mounts of 
knowledge, the Mountain of Paradise, the Everlasting Mind. 
Here, indeed, we see the apparently dry notes of a commonplace 
book gilded by the beams of heaven-born poesy, and converted 
into '' gold potable," a parable " deep and rich," truly " drawn 
from the centre of the sciences." 



1 Isaiah, Ixv. 



354 



FBANCIS BACON 



Observe, farther, how often the peiirls and rays of our pots 
arrange themselves in fives. 

Five is the central figure in the mystical square of the Hindus, 
used by them as an amulet, designed to represent the whole 
world. 

The even numbers (by a mystic symbolism which cannot here 
be explained) designate the earthy, and the uneven numbers 
the heavenly bodies. The numbers, as arranged in this cube, 
form in every direction the sum of fifteen, this number consist- 
ing of the sacred 3, emblem of the Supreme Being, and of 12, 
the number of the " Messengers" in Hindu theology. 



6 


7 


2 


1 


5 


9 


8 


3 


4 



The number 5 thus occupies the middle station, and desig- 
nates the Soul of the World. This anima mundi, soul of the 
world, is a central idea in the doctrine of the microcosm — man, 
a little world in himself. Upon this a large portion of Bacon's 
philosophy hinges. It is also of fundamental importance in the 
philosophy and mysticism of the Rosicrucians, which cannot be 
properly understood without some knowledge of its meaning. 
The Hermetic books are, as has been shown, full of allusions to 
it, as the Holy Light, the Holy Spirit — "air shining with 
ethereal light. " Just so Bacon describes the soul, as " of an 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 355 

airi/ and flamy nature,'^ and thus this goddess of the Hindus 
and the Egyptians i is described as " The Soul of the World." 
In the mystical square of 15, the Hindus draw a figure of a 
man with his hands and feet extended to the four corners. He 
is the image of the world, a real microcosm; as Bacon says, 
" an ancient emblem that man teas a microcosm or exntome of 
the ivorld. "2 in a work which the present writer believes to be 
Bacon's — written or dictated by him about the year 1600 — we 
read: 

" Man in the beginning (I mean the substantiall inward mau), 
both in and after his creation for some short time, was a pure 
Intellectual Essence, free from all fleshly, sensuall affections. 
In this state the Anima, or Sensitive Nature, did not prevail 
over the spirituall as it doth now in us. For the superior men- 
tall part of man was united to God by an essential! contact, 
and the Divine Light, being received in and conveyed to the 
inferiour parts of the Soul, did mortifie all carnal desires. . . . 
The sensuall, coelestial, sethereal part of a man is that whereby 
we move, see, feel, taste, and smell, and have commerce with 
all material objects whatsoever. ... In plain terms, it is part 
of the Soul of the World. " 

The writer explains at some length the nature of " this medial 
soul or ethereal nature," and how by its means man's mind is 
tuned to the coelestial harmonies. He repeats, though in dif- 
ferent words, many Baconian ideas of the vital spirits which are 
in all nature — " in man, in beasts, in vegetables, in minerals, 
and in everything this spirit is the mediate cause of composition 
and multiplication; " adding remarks which echo precisely the 
ideas in the De Augmentis of the hiform figure of nature — the 
sensual nature of man as contrasted or allied with the rational 
spririt, — the Mens, or concealed intelligence. (Here we have 
the Meni, the Moon, explained before.) " Now, as the divine 
light flowing into the Mens (or intellect) did assimilate and con- 
vert the inferior portions of the soul to God, so, on the contrary, 

1 The Egyptians, though describing her as a Mother, yet use the masculine 
pronoun in speaking of her. See The Book of God, i. 147. 

2 The Microcosm will be fully explained when we come to speak of the 
Symhoiic Language of Bacon's Secret Society. 



356 FRANCIS BACON 

the tree of knowledge did darken and obscure the superior por- 
tions, but awaked and stirred up the sinful nature. Tlie sum of 
this is — man. " 1 

The writer winds up his treatise by " saluting the memory of 
Cornelius Agrippa. " "He is indeed my author, and next to 
God I owe all that I have to him. " The Poet-philosopher then 
concludes with some verses to this " great, glorious penman ! " 

"The spirits of his lines infuse a fire 
Jjike the Wo7-ld's Soul, which makes me thus aspire." 

In another Rosicrucian document, or treatise (which we also 
attribute directly to Bacon), the same thoughts are returned to, 
in different language. It is not enough, says the writer, to call 
the inward principle of life " a form, and so bury up the riches 
of nature in this narrow and most absurd formality. ... To 
be plain, then, this principle {of rational intelligence) is the soul 
of the world, or the universall spirit of nature. "2 

In Timon of Athens there is a satirical allusion to the sad fall 
of man from the first " pure intellectual essence in which ho was 
created, " free from all fleshly and sensual atTections. Noting 
the ingratitude, the " monstrousness of man," in days "when 
men must learn to- dispense with pity, for 2^olicy sits above con- 
science,^^ luiiQ First Stranger exclaims: 

" Why, this is the World's Soul ; and just of the same piece 
Is every flatterer's sport." 

The pitcher, destined to receive and then pour forth the 
heavenly liquor, must be of rare and precious materials, finely 
wrought, and made in just proportions. 

The dew or manna must be gathered before the full rising of 
the sun, lest it should be melted and dissipated by too great 

ISee Aiithroposophia Theonuu/ica, "Magical Writings of Thos. Vaughan," 
edited in English by Arthur E. Waite, p. '2(5-33 (Redvvayl, Kegan, Paul, Trubuer 
& Co., 1688. It is not a difficult work, as the alarming title might load us to 
suppose; on the contrary, highly interesting with a view to the present sub- 
ject. 

2 See Anima Magica AhscoiuUta, also edited by A. E. Waite — in the same 
yol. as Anthroposophia. Published under the title of "The Magical Writings of 
Thos. Vaughan." 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 357 

heat. The revival of learning was indeed, the rising of the sun, 
the dawn of a new day to the world lying in darliness ; yet the 
dew should be collected quietly, almost secretly, and safely 
stored, before the blaze of a fiery zeal should injure and perhaps 
destroy it. 

The five rays, with their five pearls (or groups of pearls), 
typify the soul of the world, the " divine intellectual spirit, " 
"awakened," " uproused " by the sunrise. This soul of the 
world has been with the spirits that are in prison — ^" cabinned, 
cribbed, confined, " like the soul of Hamlet or of the poet of the 
Anthroposophia, who concludes one chapter with verses in 
which are these lines : • 

" My sweetest Jesus ! 'twas thy voice : ' If I 
Be lifted up, I'll draw all to the sky.' 
Tet I am here ! I'm stifled in this clay, 
Shut lip from Thee and the fresh east of day." 

The ejaculation in the third line suggests a further allusion 
to clay in the hands of the potter, which ruusfc surely have 
presented itself to poetic Bible-students such as the Bacon 
family certainly were. They must have thought of the pot of 
clay as an image of human life, a very " compounded " but a 
most brittle and perishable thing. 

" Or ever the silver cord be loosed, or the golden bowl be broken, 
or the pitcher be broken at the fountain, or the ivheel broken at the 
cistern, then shall the dust return to the earth as it tvas ; and the 
spirit shall return unto God that gave it. " i 

The clay is but the poor earthy material into which all the 
vital spirits of nature are '' infused and mixed up with the clay, 
for it is most true that of all things in the universe, man is the 
most composite. " 2 

Falstaff is made to use almost identical words where he speaks 
of " This foolish compounded clay — man. " 3 

1 Ecclesiastes, xii. Bacon was very partial to these twelve chapters aud 
brings in allusions to their teaching throughout his works and notes. Compare 
his essay or treatise of Youth and Age with As You Like It, ii. 7, and then with 
Eccles. xii. 3-.5. The first word, Remember, seems to be a pass-word in the old 
Eosicrucian books. 

2 Essay of Prometheus. 

3 3 Henry IT. 13." Men q,re but gilded loam and painted clay." Rich. II. i. I, 



358 FRANCIS BACON 

" Vanity of vanities, saith the Preacher; all is vanity; but, be- 
cause the Preacher was wise, he still taught the people knowledge; 
yea, he gave good heed, and sought out and set in order many 
proverbs, i The Preacher sought to find out many acceptable 
words,2 and that which was written was upright, words of 
truth. The words of the wise are as goads,3 and as nails fast- 
ened by the Masters of Assemblies, which are given from one 
shepherd. And farther by these, my son, be admonished; of 
making many books there is no end, and much study is a weari- 
ness of the flesh. Let us hear the conclusion of the whole matter. 
Fear God and keep His commandments, for this is the whole 
duty of man. For God shall bring every work into judgment 
with every secret thing, whether it be good or whether it be 
evil. " 

Here is the model of a charge from a " Master of Assemblies" 
to his " Sons," the Sons of Science, the Brethren in love and re- 
ligious union. In their youth they must Remember their Creator, 
in mature years labour in the cause of truth, till the time comes 
when the frail pitcher is broken, even in the act of drawing fresh 
supplies from the heavenly fountain; its contents or its empti- 
ness will be seen, and every secret thing made known and judged 
in the broad light of day. 

This digression is intended to illustrate the manner in which 
these Baconian ideas are linked together in one great chain, 
each symbol or image merging into or mixing itself up with an- 
other. 

To return once more to the pitcher or pot — Bacon's special 
mark, the humble vessels which his friends raised to honour. 

Who is so dull and unimaginative as to be incapable of fitting 
together the scraps of erudition here disjointedly scattered be- 
fore him? Who will check and refuse to see in this water-mark 
Bacon's well-conceived emblem of himself and his disciples as 

1 See the De Aiy. viii. ii. in which, when discoursing of Th^ Doctrine Con- 
cerninf) Scattered Occasions, Bacon extols the use of proverbs like the aphorisms 
of Solomon, " to which there is nothing comparable," and which ho expounds 
and comments upon through twenty octavo pages. 

2 See Bacon's record of the necessity' for doing this (De Avg. vi. i) and a 
few of his immense contributions to language in jottings amongst his private 
notes {Promus, 116-1.59, 272-3:^(5, 1370-1439, etc.) 

a Quoted in the Pronms. fol. 88, 239, and again in Advt. of L. i. and the 
Wisd. oftke AncieHts, xxviii., from the Yulgate j&'ce^. sji. 11, 



AND HIS SECBET SOCIETY. 359 

mere " vases, " " receptacles " for the heavenly manna, the 
dew, " the flowing and distillations which emanated from the 
Spirit of the Waters " ? 

The pot has never the appearance of being made of earthen- 
ware, for it was a golden pot in which Aaron preserved the 
manna. " We read in Genesis that God made man out of the 
earth. This is a great mystery. For it was not the common 
pot-clay, but another, and that of a far better nature. " i " As 
the potter hath his clay, or the limner his colours, so the Spirit 
that worketh in Nature, in the outward lineaments or symmetry 
of that which he forms, proves himself nothing but a divine, 
intellectual spirit. " 2 

Those who would aid in following up these researches into 
the history of Bacon and his Secret Society will render efficient 
service if in the course of their reading (in books more particu- 
larly of dates between 1580 and 1680.-) they will give attention 
to the paper-marks of the volumes which they study, noting 
accurately the title, date, and edition of the book, and even the 
number of the page on which marks are found. Copies or trac- 
ings of these should be made and duly registered. Such an 
examination, undertaken by some dozens of pairs of observant 
eyes, would be extremely useful in solving doubtful questions. 
For many points are still very doubtful, and probably some re- 
main altogether undisclosed, so that hitherto only these few 
general statements can be considered as definitely proved : 

1. That in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries paper- 
marks were used throughout the works which were the products 
of the " Renaissance." 

2. That these paper-marks are not mere manufacturers' signs, 
but that they have a mutual relation and connection, and that 
they were and are means of conveying secret information to the 
members of some widely-spread society. 

3. That the society was not a mere trade-guild, but that it 
was moved by motives of religion, and, in its highest branches 

1 Anthro^osojpJiia, 22. 3 Anima Magica, 54. 



360 FBANCIS BACON 

at least, was a Christian philosophical society, or a society for 
promoting Christian knowledge. 

4. That the subject-matter of the books does not necessarily 
affect the paper-marks. 

5. That the three marks, the double candlesticks, the grapes, 
and the pitcher or pot, are notably '' Baconian, " the pot 
especially being found in all Bacon's acknowledged works, and 
throughout the correspondence of Anthony and Francis, 
especially when their correspondent was of the Reformed 
Church. 

6. That, where any one pattern is varied many times in the 
same book, there is usually no other mark except in the fly- 
leaves. 

7. The extraordinary but not unaccountable habit of tearing 
out the fly-leaves at the beginning and end of valuable books of 
the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries often makes it impos- 
sible to declare that the book in hand possessed no other mark 
besides those which we see. 

8. The fly-leaves were wont, in many of our " Baconian " 
books, to be very numerous : five or eight are common numbers 
for the sheets. They were probably intended for the making 
of notes, a practice which Bacon enjoins and so highly com- 
mends. In old, untouched libraries there are usually some books 
where the fly-leaves have been thus utilised. Perhaps, when 
filled with notes, they were to be taken out, and forwarded to 
some central point of study, either to an individual or to a com- 
mittee, who should by their means add to the value of any sub- 
sequent edition or " collection " which might be published. It is 
certain that fly-leaves have been stolen for the sake of the old 
paper, for etching or for forged reprints; but this does not ac- 
count for the fact that certain books, when sent, without any 
special orders, to be repaired by a Freemason binder, have re- 
turned with this large number of fly-leaves restored ; in many 
of our public libraries such extra leaves in books rebound have 
paper-marks. 

9. In Bacon's acknowledged works the changes are rung 
upon the three paper-marks, the pot, the grapes, and the can- 



AND HIS SECBET SOCIETY. ' 361 

dlesticks, the latter being apparently the rarest of the three. 
Usually one or two of these patterns are combined with one 
extra mark. With time enough and help to examine every 
edition of every book concerned in this inquiry, it is hardly to 
be doubted that a real scheme could be drawn up to demon- 
strate the precise method of the use of paper-marks. The fol- 
lowing table may be sufficient to illustrate our meaning. The 
" moons " to which allusion will be made are not made, hke 
the other paper-marks, by wires. They give the idea of having 
been produced by the impression of a thumb on the soft pulp 
in the process of paper-making. These moon-marks are of too 
frequent occurrence, in certain books and during a certain 
period, for any doubt to remain as to their being the result of 
intention and not of accident or chance. They are, therefore, 
included amongst the extras in our list. The chronological 
arrangement enables us to observe several particulars. First, 
that the pots seem to be in one edition at least of every work 
produced by Francis or Anthony Bacon, or published under 
their auspices. Two handles to the pot seem to mean that 
two persons helped in the construction of the book. Next, we 
notice that, in republications, compilations, or '' collections " of 
any kind, grapes prevail, and that the candlesticks only appear 
when the volume which includes them is to be considered com- 
plete. Then, as to dates. The Baconian pots have been found 
first in a book 1579-80, and not later than 1680 — a period of 
one hundred years. They, like the rest of the marks, increase 
in size from about one inch to seven inches. The use of the 
Baconian grapes seems to have begun about 1600, and to have 
continued only in France after 1680. The double candlesticks 
appeared later still, after the death of Francis Bacon, and re- 
mained in use for about fifty years. The three marks all dis- 
appeared in England about 1680. 



362 



FBANCIS BA CON 



1579 
159(1 
1596 



1598 
1603 
1603 

1605 
1609 
1609 

1611 
1611 
1616 
1618 

1622 
1631 
1633 
1634 

1638 
1639 
1640 
1640 
1645 
1646 



1647 
1648 

1648 
1651 
1651 
1652 
1655 

1655 

1658 
1664 

1668 
1669 
1669 

1669 
1671 



North's Plutarke 
Book of Com. Prayer 
The Faerie yueene 



Chapman's Works 
North's Plutarke 
Montaigne's Essays. 

Advt. of Learninj? 

Book of Com. Prayer 

Observns. on Csssar's 
Commentaries. 

Bible 

Klorio's Dictionary 

Ben Jonson's Works 

Selden's History of 
Tithes 

Shakesjieare 

Love's Labour's Lost 

"Fulke's" Bible 

Jeremy Taylor's 
" Holy State" 

Bacon Opera 

Quarles' Kmblems 

De Augmentis 

Ben Jonson's Works 

Comus &L other poems 

"The Art of Making 
Devises," Ciphers, 
&c. 

Fuller'8"HolyWarre" 

Hieroglyphics, Sym- 
bols, Ciphers, &.C. 

"Diodati" Bible 

Sylva Sylvarum 

(;omus,"&.c. 

Comus, &.C. 

Comus, &c. 

Fuller's Ch. History 

Sylva Sylvarum 
Shakespeare 

Paradise Lost 
Paradise Regained 
Sir K. Digby's Trea- 
tises 
Cowley's Works. 
Resuseitatio, 3d edn. 

De Augmentis 



Pot (on fly-leaves) 

Pots, various 

Pots, various, some 

two - handled, with 

lettersAB. KB, BI, 

R, R C 
Pots, various 
Pots, various 
Pots, various, some 

two-handled 
Pots, various 
Pots, various 



Pots, various 
Pots, various 
Pots, various 
Pots, various, some 
two-handled 

Pots, various 
Pots, various 

Pots, various 
Pots, various 
Pots, various 
Pots, various 

Pots, various 



Pots, various 
Pots, various 

Pots, various 
Pots (enormous) 
Pots, various 
Pots, various 
Pots, various 
Pots.various, and out 

in half. 
Pots, various 

Pots, various 
Pots, various 

Pots, various 
Pots, various 

Pots, various 
Pots, various 
Pots, various, very 

large 
Pots, various, very 



GRAPES. CANDLESTICKS. 



Grapes 
Grapes 



Grapes 
Grapes 



Grapes 



Grapes 

Grapes 
Grapes 
Grapes 



Grapes 



Grapes 
Grapes 



Grapes 



Grapes 



Grapes 
Grapes 



Grapes 
Grapes 



Grapes 



Candlesticks 
Candlesticks 
Candlesticks 
Candlesticks 
Candlesticks 




Candlesticks 



Twisted horns 
Crowns, shields 

(Fly-leaves gone) 
Twisted horns 
Bugle 
Moons 

Shields 
Crowns 

Shields 

Shields 

Shields, bugles 
Shields, bugles 
Shields 
Shields 
Fool's cap 



Shields 
Shields 



Shields 

Shields & double- 
headed eagle 

Shields, bugle 

Shields , hearts, 
crowns, &.C. 

Shield 

Shield 

Crescent & R 
Fool's cap 



7. Not only is the nature of the paper-mark thus varied in 
each book, but the forms of each figure are varied to a surpris; 
ing extent. No two volumes, often no two parts of the same 
volume, treatise, poem, or play, contain marks which are iden- 
tical. For instance, in Ben Jonson, 1616, there are at least fifteen 
diflferent forms of the pot, two of which are sometimes in one 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 363 

play. In Selden^s History of Tithes, 1618, the variations are as 
frequent. In Burtoti's Anatomy of Melancholy, 1621, there are 
at least thirty half-pitchers, no two of which seem to be alike. 
Again, we have not succeeded in finding any form of mark pre- 
cisely repeated in books of different titles, editions, or dates. 

In the writing-paper of the Bacon family and their friends, 
there is almost as striking a variety in the representation of the 
same figure or pattern. It is certain that these marks were not 
of the same kind as the ornaments, etc., on letter-paper of the 
present day, in which crests, monograms, etc., are adopted by 
certain individuals and retained by them for some time at least. 
In letters in Baconian correspondence, written in rapid succes- 
sion by the same person, the marks are found different, and on 
the other hand, different persons writing, the one from England 
and the other from abroad, occasionally used paper with pre- 
cisely similar marks. It would seem that, in such cases, paper 
had been furnished to these correspondents from some private 
mill. 

8. There are, in combination with some designs, or apart from 
them, " bars "on which appear names, sometimes of paper-makers, 
as " Ricard, " '* Rapin, " " Conard, " " Nicolas, " etc. These seem 
to be chiefly in the foreign paper, as nowadays we have " What- 
man, " " Joynson, " etc. i But often these bars are as cabalistic 
as the rest of the designs, or they seem to contain the initials 
of the " producer" of the book, not, we think, of its true author. 
The pots have no bars in connection with them; perhaps the 
letters upon them render further additions unnecessary. Observe, 
in the plates of pots, the large number which occur inscribed 
A B, F B, B, B I, R, R C, C R, the letters being sometimes in- 
verted, sometimes placed sideways, or otherwise disguised. 2 

1 The practice of inserting the full names of the makers is said to have 
come into fashion in the sixteenth century. See The Manufacture of Paper, 
C. T. Davis, 1886. 

2 We would draw especial attention to a bar taken from the first edition of 
Ben Joiison's Worh. At the first glance the markings on this bar appear to be 
meaningless, or cabalistic, but if the reader will take a card in each hand and 
cover up or screen each portion by turns, he may agree with the present writer 
that the marks resolve themselves into a name, and perhaps a double repetition 
of the letters R C. Thus, to the left extremity C followed by R reversed. Then 



364 FRANCIS BACON 

9. The system of gaper-marks still exists, though under modi- 
fied conditions. Books are now printed too cheaply to admit of 
the old use of " water-marked " paper. Where, however, these 
marks are absent, we find a series of other marks, less beau- 
tiful, and far less conspicuous, but equally significant and curi- 
ous, and which, in due season, we hope to explain by the aid of 
photography and the microscope. 

On the other hand, " deficiencies " iu this department of 
knowledge are unhappily numerous. Let it therefore be in- 
quired : 

1. Which were the very earliest paper-mills in England? To 
whom did they belong? What were the water-marks on the 
paper produced there? 

2. Which was the first printed book for which the paper was 
made in England? 

3. From what foreign mills did our English i)rintevs import 
paper? 

4. At what date did the papers with the hand and the pot re- 
ceive the distinctive additions which, for want of a better name, 
we have termed Baconian ? 

5. In what books may we see the very latest examples of the 
candlesticks, the grapes, and the pot in the paper ? 

6. When and why was the use of paper-marks in printed 
books discontinued? Was the discontinuance simultaneous 
and universal? Was there truly a discontinuance of the system 
of secret marks, or, rather, did a change or modification take 
place, in order to adapt these secret marks to the exigencies of 
modern requirements in printing and book-making? 

7. When Sir Nicholas Bacon, in his youth, resided for three or 
four years in Holland, did he visit and study the manufactories 
of paper? Does any record show him mixed up iu any business 
relations with paper manufacturers? 

begins the name, A, of which the right side forms part of the sloping letter N ; 
an upright with cross-piece, T ; the same upright, connected half way down 
with a curved stroke, H; at the end of the curved stroke, a small but distinct 
0, followed by an N, sloping greatly to the left, and from which proceeds, to 
the right, a smaller T — ANTHONY. In the H and its curved line there is an 
irregularity suggestive of a monogram of R C. But these are only suggestions; 
other eyes and imaginations maj* interpret them difl'erently. 



Ai^D HIS sechet society. sas 

8. What part did the old printers and publishers play iu the 
secret society? For instance, John Norton (Lady Anne Bacon's 
cousin) and the Spottisworths (both families in which these 
trades have in an eminent degree flourished ever since). 

y. Did the " Baconian " water-marks remain in use until 
circa 1680, — in fact, for just one hundred years from the time 
when the first document of the Rosicrucian society was pub- 
lished? 

10. Was it intended that, by the end of the period of one 
hundred years, all the posthumous works of Francis Bacon, 
" Ml/ cabinet and presses full of papers," should have been pub- 
lished by his followers? and did the system of water-marks in 
printed books cease at that period? 

11. Are printers and paper-makers, as a rule. Freemasons? 
Do they mutually co-operate and understand each other's 
marks? 

12. If not, what reasons do they adduce for the mystery 
which is still cast over simple matters connected with their use- 
ful and beneficent crafts, and for the unusual difaculties which 
are met with in obtaining any good books or any trustworthy 
information upon the subjects which we have been considering? 

13. Is there any period at which modern Freemasonry and 
Rosicrucianism propose to clear up and reveal these apparently 
useless and obstructive " secrets " ? 

14. Or, what is supposed to be the advantage, either to the 
pubhc or to individuals, in keeping up these or other mystifica- 
tions, historical or mechanical? Once, doubtless, helpful and 
protective, guides as well as guardians, they now seem to be 
mere stumbling-blocks in the way of knowledge. 

Further on we shall have to inquire, who are they who have 
the right and the power so to manipulate the printed cata- 
logues of onr public libraries as to enable them to convey hints 
to the initiated of books specially to their purpose; and to re- 
press open references to certain books or documents which 
would tell the uninitiated too much ? For the present we merely 
throw out these hints to encourage observers to note very pre- 
cisely evert/ instance in which stick aberrations occur. In matters 



366 FRANCIS BA CON 

conuected with these subjects they are not infrequent, and the 
student need not despair of getting an important book because 
it is not in the printed catalogue of a great Mbrary. 

Perhaps it may not be amiss to give a few hints to observers 
unaccustomed to the technical matters involved in making a 
book. Let them take notice that in folio editions the paper- 
marks are to be found about the centre of the page ; but in small 
quartos, where the paper is folded so as to form four sheets, in 
octavos, where another fold produced eight sheets, and in duo- 
decimos, where the folds are again multiplied, the paper-marks 
will often be found divided into two or four parts. Usually, the 
sheet having been bent in the middle where the paper-mark is, 
the halves of the marks will be seen at the binding, say, half 
on pages 1 and 2, and the other half on pages 7 and 8. But in 
smaller books, the water-marks are still more divided, and 
sometimes appear in pieces in the outer margins. The eye soon 
becomes accustomed to distinguish these arrangements, 
although the division of the design makes the work more 
troublesome. 

Even in the large and undivided marks, the letter-press and 
engravings often obscure the design. Many specimens must be 
compared, and many drawings made, before the exact charac- 
ter of the mark can be ascertained. 

This Is the excuse, pleaded beforehand, for any errors or mis- 
conceptions in the drawings which accompany this book. It is 
also the cause why these illustrations have been taken from 
such a limited circle of books. Those in our own library, or 
belonging to friends, can be traced against the light with red 
ink, and then carefully retraced. But this is impossible in 
books belonging to public libraries, where the difficulty of 
measuring and copying is much increased by the little aid which 
the all-cheering sun deigns to bestow, and by the impractica- 
bility of holding up large folios towards his veiled face. He 
seems to be in league with the paper- makers and printers, and 
the electric light is kinder in this respect. 

For the present, to avoid fruitless controversy, and to enclose 



AND ms SECn^T SOCIETY. .167 

the range of observation within a manageable area, we withliold 
any notice of paper-marks in books produced by " authors " 
living only after Bacon's time. Yet it is right to caution ob- 
servers that they should by no means discontinue their notes 
and researches in books published, even for the first time, after 
1626. 

Startling disclosures are made by collating these paper-marks, 
and other technical particulars, in books which, from Internal 
evidence, are judged to have been written or aided by Francis 
or Anthony Bacon, and which, by these external and demon- 
strable signs, are " hall-marked " by the paper-maker and the 
printer. To any one sufficiently possessed by the spirit of in- 
quiry or love of truth, to labour after it, and personally to test 
and follow up the statements and suggestions made above, it 
will, we think, be difiBcult to resist the conclusions to which we 
have been drawn. They will perceive that, if indeed Anthony 
Bacon was not (as we think) a considerable author, poet, and 
playwright, yet that, for more than twenty-five years, he ener- 
getically collaborated with the beloved younger brother, ivJtom 
he equalled in tvit, though not in profound learning; the style of 
writing of the brothers, twins in heart and soul, being in these 
lighter works almost indistinguishable. 

It must also, we think, be ere long made manifest that the 
works hitherto attributed to Francis Bacon are samples only, 
tastes of his quality; giving, as they were intended to give, ex- 
cellent hints and indications of the manifold works of all kinds 
and (as Ben Jonson declared) in " all numbers, " actually written, 
dictated, or directed by him ; constructed and published by his 
"Method.'' 

Which of Bacon's works is in the true sense complete f Per- 
fect in its kind it may be (as, for instance, any single essay). 
But can any of these works be considered finished and exhaust- 
ive? Does any one of them " fill up" its own subject? On the 
contrary, almost all are in some sort fragmentary ; ^ and, for our 

1 Perhaps the Ristory of Henry VII. should he excepted. Yet even this 
begins as though it were the end or concluding portion of a History of Richard 
III., and not as would he expected in a separate and complete history. 



3G8 FttANClS BACon 

own part, in the acknowledged works of Francis Bacon we see 
but a collection of masterly sketches — vast maps in outline, 
magnificent designs, whose every detail he had elsewhere studied 
and attempted to trace out, so that the next ages should have 
but to copy, fill in, enlarge, diminish, colour, or elaborate. 
" Will you make this man a monster, with powers abnormal and 
supernatural?" The question has been asked more than once, 
and the reply is as before. No man could have read, imagined, 
cogitated, and devised as Francis Bacon did, if at the same time 
he had to conduct the mechanical business requisite in the pro- 
duction of great works on a vast variety of subjects. Though 
we have it on the authority of Dr. Sprat, that the powers of mind 
of Bacon were equal to those of twenty, if not (as some seem to 
have said) of a thousand men ; yet neither his bodily strength 
nor length of days would have sufficed for such a work. He 
must have had help in the most tedious particulars, and the 
method has already been explained by which, according to the 
present view, the Freemasons and Rosicrucians became engines 
or machines for the execution of all mechanical work. 

And for a monster in mind, who has ever matched Francis 
Bacon? Truly, like Ctesar, he 

" Did get the start of the majestic world, 
And bear the palm alone." 

Is it not true that still 

" He doth bestride the narrow world 
Like a Colossus ; and that petty men 
Walk under his huge legs, and peep about 
To find themselves dishonourable gi'aves " 1 

A monster ? — Yes, that is the very name which his friend Sir 
Tobie Matthew claims for him. He challenges any one " to mus- 
ter out of any age four men who, in many respects, should excel 
four such as we are able to show — Cardinal Wolsey, Sir 
Thomas More, Sir Philip Sydney, and Sir Frauds Bacon, for 
they were all a kind of monsters in their several ways." 
After extolling the first three, he continues : 



AND ins SECRET SOCIETY. 3(J9 

" The fourth was a creature of incomparable abilities of mind, 
of sharp and catching appreheusion, large aud faithful memory, 
plentiful aud sprouting invention, deep and solid judgment; . . . 
a man so rare in knowledge of so many several kinds, indeed 
witli the facility of expressing it in so elegant, significant, so 
abundant, and yet so choice and ravishing a way of words, of 
metaphors, and allusions, as perhaps the world has not seen 
since it was a world. " 

So, of all intellectual monsters who had appeared until the 
time of Sir Tobie Matthew, incomparably the greatest was 
Francis Bacon. Sir Tobie was well aware that detraction would 
not suffer his eulogy to pass unchallenged, but he throws down 
the gauntlet which no man has yet ventured to pick up : 

" I know," he continues, " that this may seem a great hyper- 
bole aud strange kind of riotous excess of speech ; but the best 
means of putting me to shame will be for you to place any man 
of yours by this of mine. And in the meantime even this little 
makes a shift to shew that the genius of England is still not 
only eminent, but predominant, /or the assembling great variety 
of those rare parts, in some single man, which may be incom- 
patible anyivhere else. " 

Bacon's works are sometimes described or alluded to as being 
of so stupendous a kind that it is impossible to conceive his 
having time, even had he the ability or inclination, for other 
compositions. But, in fact, the whole of his written composi- 
tions, excluding letters but including the law tracts and 
charges, would fill only four of the fourteen volumes which ap- 
pear on our shelves as Spedding's Life, Letters, and Works of 
Bacon. The rest consist of letters, transactions, variorum edi- 
tions, and comments by the editors. 

Compare with this the voluminous productions of some of his 
contemporaries. Coke " wrote thirty-one volumes with his own 
hand" (yet he was a busy public man like Bacon). Richard 
Baxter is " said to have produced " 145 distinct works, as he 
himself says, " in the crowd of other employments." Thomas 
Heywood, the actor, is " said to have written " 220 or 240 plays, 
" A Life of Merlin," a " Life of Elizabeth,'' " The Lives of the 

24 



370 FRANCIS BACON 

Nine Worthies, etc./^ the last item admitting of many possibili- 
ties. 

Montaigne " feared to glut tlie world with his works " (a sur- 
prising statement if nothing is claimed for him excepting one 
volume of essays). As to Jaspar Barthius, though his contem- 
poraries do not bestow upon him any particular notice, yet 
Bayle tells us that his works on many various subjects " make 
so prodigious a mass that one has difficulty in conceiving how a 
single man could suffice for such things. " 

When, at some future time, we are able to discuss at leisure 
particulars which have been collected, and which link together 
the friends, correspondents, and colleagues of Francis and An- 
thony Bacon, we will endeavour to satisfy inquirers as to the 
methods of these and other "voluminous writers" of the six- 
teenth and seventeenth centuries. For the present let it be 
noted that Francis Bacon's acknowledged works were neither 
voluminous nor stupendous; that, on the contrary, three or four 
modest volumes are all that were published under his name. 
Other authors, who are ranked amongst the giant minds of 
Bacon's time by the critics, commentators, and biographers of 
the nineteenth century, are not so much as named by their pro- 
totypes of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Neither Sir 
Tobie Matthew, Sir Henry Wotton, nor Ben Jonson include them 
in their lists of great writers or thinkers. 

There is indeed no weight or value in the argument that 
Francis Bacon had not the time, even if ho had the ability, to 
write the works which we attribute to him; he had time, 
knowledge, and genius enough for it all ; nor is there any great 
difficulty in conceiving the method by which he achieved his 
great enterprise. Neither does he leave it to our imagination, 
but explains clearly that it is only by the combination of many 
minds to one general end, and by the division of labour in par- 
ticulars, that any real advance can be made, and that it is by 
examination and experiment, not by talk and argument, that 
the work can be accomplished. 

" This road [of practical experience and demonstration] has 
an issue in the open ground not far off; the other has no issue 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 371 

at all, but endless entanglement. . . . Moreover, I think that 
men may take some hope from my own example. And this I 
say, not by way of boasting:, but because it is useful to say it. If 
there be any that despond, let them look at me, that, being of 
all men of my time the most busied in attairs of state, and a 
man of health not very strong (whereby much time is lost), and 
in this course altogether a pioneer, . . . have, nevertheless, by 
resolutely entering on the true road, and submitting my mind 
to things, advanced these matters, as I suppose, some little 
way. And then let them consider what may be expected (after 
the way has been thus indicated) from men abounding in leis- 
ure, and from association of labours in successive ages: the 
rather because it is not a ivay over tvhich only one man can pass 
at a time (as is the case with the way of reasoning), but one in 
tvhich the labours and industries of men, especially as regards 
the collecting of experience, mayivith the best effect be distributed, 
and then combined. For then only ivill men begin to know their 
strength, ivhen, instead of great numbers doing all the same 
things, one shall take charge of one thing, and another of 
another.^' ^ 

Observe that he puts distribution first. This assumes a dis- 
tributor, a head or chief moving spirit, who shall apportion to 
his subordinates the work which he considers them to be capa- 
ble of performing. Moreover, look at the phrase in brackets. 
Here Bacon hints that he did the reasoning part of the work 
himself. That could be deputed to none other. In days 
when language was halt and lame, when men's powers of ob- 
servation were dimmed, and all other faculties for resolving 
high and deep thoughts into beautiful language were ranked . 
among the deficients, how was it possible that ordinary men 
combine in their writings or their speeches the most extensive 
learning, the finest reasoning, and the clearest, most cogent, or 
charming metliod of delivery ? 

Bacon warns 2 " those who take upon them to lay down the 
law as to the bounds of knowledge — as to what is possible and 
what impossible to know or achieve," that they " have done 
great injury. For, whether they have spoken in simple assur- 

liVoy. Org. i. cxiii. 2 ^'ov. Org. Pref. 



372 FRANCIS BACON 

ance or professional affectation, they have been equally suc- 
sessful in quenching and stopping inquiry, and have done more 
harm by stopping other men's efforts than good by their own. " 
Was there ever a time when these words were truer than now, 
and in relation to his own works, and the investigations con- 
nected with them ? Can we too strongly grapple to our hearts 
his advice that we should " take up, with better judgment, a 
position between these two extremes — between the presumption 
of pronouncing on everything and the despair of comprehending 
anything; that, though frequently and bitterly complaining of 
the difficulty of inquiry and the obscurity of things, yet, none 
the less, we should follow up our own object, thinking that this 
very question — whether or no anything can be known — is to 
be settled, not by arguing, but by trying " ? He " draws an 
argument of hope from this, that some of the inventions already 
known are such as, before they were discovered, could hardly 
have entered any man's head to think of; for, in conjecturing 
tvhat may be, men set before them the example of tvhat has been, 
and divine of the New, with imagination preoccupied and col- 
oured by the Old. " 

Having illustrated his meaning by examples from the inven- 
tions of gunpowder, silk, and the magnet, he continues: " We 
have discoveries to show of another kind, which prove that 
noble inventions may be lying at our very feet, and yet man- 
kind may step over without seeing them. For, however the 
discovery of gunpowder, of silk, of the magnet, of sugar, of 
paper " {which, observe, he did not mention before) " may seem 
to depend on certain properties of things themselves and 
nature, there is, at any rate, nothing in the art of printing 
which is not plain and obvious, i . . . This most beautiful dis- 
covery, which is of so much service in the propagation of knowl- 
edge," he attributes to the observation of simple facts, arguing 
that such is the infelicity and unhappy disposition of the human 
mind in this course of discovery or invention that it first dis- 

1 Though so plain and obvious, the art of printing is amongst the subjects, 
enumerated by Bacon, which required, and which .iti./.l requires, a separate " His- 
tory." See the Catalogue of Histories, Ko. 110, at the end of the Tarasceve. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 373 

trusts and then despises itself; first, will not believe that any 
such thing can be found out, and, when it is found out, cannot 
understand how the world should have missed it so long. " Far 
from beiug discouraged, he repeats that he takes all this as a 
ground for hope, and there is yet another. " Let men but think 
of their infinite expenditure of understanding, time, and means, 
or matters of pursuit of much less value, whereof, if but a small 
part were directed to sound and solid studies, there is no difii- 
culty that might not be overcome." 

Does any one suggest that the interpretations of the paper- 
marks are '' arbitrary " or " speculative, " the attempted expla- 
nations of doubtful matters erroneous or incomplete ? Let him 
turn to the beginning of this book and see again that these 
things are offered, not as perfect fruits, but as some of the best 
which we have been able to reach or pick up. They are, for 
the most part, a humble " collection, " such as Francis Bacon 
instructed his disciples to make for examination and considera- 
tion; though some are the products of real research and exami- 
nation, and of a simple but effective process of *' putting two 
and two together. " 

Should more accurate information be forthcoming, better sug- 
gestions be offered, we shall heartily greet them from whatever 
quarter they may come, rejoicing if we may in any degree have 
cleared the way for the advance of truth, or inspired others to 
better work than we are capable of doing. All that is asked, 
and this earnestly, is that these things may be fairly discussed, 
pressed home, and thoroughly looked into. It is In vain " to 
wave them courteously aside " in the prescribed Freemason 
fashion, or to thrust them churUshly out of sight as trivialities, 
matters of course, mere curiosities for the book- worm or the 
" crank." 

It is surely wrong as well as vain to attempt to quench the 
true spirit of inquiry by endeavouring to make the inquirer ap- 
pear contemptible, and his researches childish and silly. Such 
devices must in the end return upon the heads of those who 
practice them, and, although they may delay and harass the 
advance of knowledge, they cannot stop itj for "nothing is 



374 FEANCIS BACON. 

subtle when it be conceived, " and we know now that, though 
we have not, as Bacon says, '* found an issue into open ground," 
yet we have got out of the " entanglement, " and see daylight. 

The questions asked, and the problems propounded, are 
neither trivial nor absurd,, nor matter for pedantic dogmatism 
and argumentative controversy. Rather they are questions to 
be weighed and considered — and more. If it be true that 
" cogitation resides not in the man who does not think, " so, 
surely, it resides but as smoke and fumes in the man who does 
not examine. 

'' Orpheus was torn to pieces by the Furies, and the River 
Helicon, in sorrow, hid its waters underground, and rose again 
in other places. " So with the great religious, literary, and sci- 
entific society which Francis Bacon did so much to glorify and 
render permanent. It hid its waters in England during the 
time of the civil wars and their attendant miseries. But those 
waters rose again with renewed freshness. Can we not trace 
them bubbhng up in France, Spain, and Italy, but still more in 
Germany and Holland, which seem for a while to have been 
their largest reservoir ? The Rosicross Brethren never ceased 
their beneficent efforts in England, but they worked like the 
" old mole," underground, and in silence. Bacon and his won- 
derful work are better known and understood in Germany than 
in England. "His fame," says Dr. Rawley, "is greater, and 
sounds louder in foreign parts abroad, than at home in his own 
nation, thereby verifying that divine sentence, ' A prophet is not 
without honour, save in his oivn country and in his own house.' " 
He concludes the short life of his beloved master with these 
words: "Howsoever his body was mortal, yet no doubt his 
memory and works will live, and will in all probability last as 
long as the world lasteth. " 



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LIST OF PAPER-MARKS. 



Plate I. 

1. Sphere, surmounted by star or crosses. Account books, 
Hague, British Museum collection. 1301. 

2, 3. Sphere; surmounted by star or crosses. Account books, 
Hague. British Museum collection. 1356, 1430 
Another, 5i inches high, slightly different. Cotton MSS. 
Nero 127. 
4. Sphere, cross, scarabeus. Jansen (in Sotheby). 1315. 

5, (). Sphere, cross, scarabeus, one with water line = Holy 
Spirit. Jansen (in Sotheby). 1360. 

7-11 Sphere, with triangle = the Trinity; ellipse = Holy 
Spirit. The figure 4, sacred number in '' Perfect 
Masonry, " meaning the universe, four elements, four 
winds, four seasons, four dimensions, as generally con- 
ceived, length, breadth, depth, height. In 9a is a 
figure 4, the Egyptian hierogram = Greek alpha and 
omega. The T, which frequently appears In these 
plates, signifies light. The double tau, a very ancient 
symbol of the sacred sanctuary of light and beauty, 
resembles H. Two I's, with a cross between, as 9b, 
conveys the same idea as at fig. 10. A cross in a 
sphere is the Druidical silver wheel, Arianrod — em- 
blem of the Bi-une God, the alpha and omega of the 
Revelations. Chiefly from the collection, British Mu- 
seum, 318c, vol. vii. No. 11 is five inches long. Circa 
1400. 
12. D, a mystic word expressive of the power of expanding, 
spreading, unfolding, laying open.i Bi was a term 

1 Celtic Researches, p. 446, Davios, quoted B. of God, ji. 441. 

4°3 



404 FRANCIS BACON 

for the Deity, from which we have Day (Dai), the 
Disposer, the Distributor. We ask God to "give us 
each day our daily bread." Biblia Pauperum; 
Sotheby's Principia; Cotton, Nero vi. 218, 230. 1590. 

13, 14. Spanish letters. 

15-17. The three mounts — probably Calvary or Golgotha, 
Moriah, and Sinai, to which Masonic traditions are 
attached. At Golgotha Adam was buried, who caused 
the ruin of mankind. Here the Saviour suffered, who 
came to redeem mankind. Here, too, Enoch is said to 
have constructed his nine-arched vault, and concealed 
from men the ineffable name of God. It is said that 
the Masons discovered this vault and brought it to 
Solomon. Mount Moriah was the seat of Solomon's 
Temple, and a story too long for insertion relates how 
this mount came to be consecrated to brotherly love.i 
Mount Sinai is said to be referred to in the twenty- 
third and twenty-fourth degrees of the (Prince of the 
Tabernacle) Scottish Ancient and Accepted Rite. 
But Scottish Masonry is not traceable to a date earlier 
than 1758, and then only in Paris. Perhaps it then 
adopted the modern name of " Free Mason." British 
Museum, 318c, vol. vii. 
18 Five mounts (or hills of knowledge?). British Mu- 
seum, 318c vii. 

19. Some of many varieties of keys. Biblia Pauperum 

20. Anvil. True size, 3i inches, many patterns. Haarlem 

account book. 1416-1421. 

21. Anvil. German MS. Fifteenth century. 

22. Anvil cross. Double tau. Cotton MSS. Nero vi. 163. 

1603. 

23. Flaming sun. Cotton MSS. Caligula E 302. 1598. 

24. St. Katherine's wheel, or disguised sun. Ars Moriendi 

— Hibbert. 

25. Scales. Biblia Pauperum. 

1 See Royal Masonic Cgclopedia — Moriah. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 405 

26. Scales, Many patterns, some within a circle. Brit- 

ish Museum, 318c. Circa 1400. 

27. Scales. British Museum, 318c. 

28, 29. Anchors. Eleven varieties in account books, etc. — 
Holland. British Museum, 318c. 1416-1463. See, 
also, Nos. 21, 22, Plate II. Some have roses, fleur- 
de-lis, etc. 

30. Serpent, with its tail in its mouth — emblem of eter- 

nity—Si inches diameter. British Museum, 15c ii. 

31. Five-pointed star in circle. Five is a mystic number, 

meaning the soul of the world. A star, the emblem of 
a heavenly messenger, or teacher. The circle = the 
world. 

32. The ship or ark of the church. Cotton MSS. Nero vi. 

108. 1529. British Museum, 318c vii. 1400. 



Plate II. 

1-3. Unicorns. Symbol of the church. One marked as if 
for cipher. There are four other varieties, 1430, and 
more 1460— all German. Ars MoriencU. 1440. Also in 
Apocalypse, and in the Speculum, first edition, 1430- 
1465. 

4, 5. Unicorns. Drayton's Poems, three patterns. Brit. Mus., 
11,573. (Sotheby.) 1620. 

6. Talbot or hound, symbol of hunting or experience. The 

Oxford Book St. Jerome. (Sotheby.) '' Printed date," 
1468. 

7. Talbot, from a Dutch Bible, copy of the Aretin, The 

paper of the Bodleian copy of the Aretin, " dated " 
Oxford, 1479, exhibits no fewer than twenty- two dif- 
ferent paper-marks, nearly all of which occur in the 
Dutch Bible of 1477. Brit. Mus., 318c. 1477. 
8 A dog-headed figure merging into a horn or spire. 
Anthony Bacon's correspondence. Tennison MSS., 
Lambeth Palace. 
9-11. Bulls' heads. Brit. Mus., 318c. Circa 1470. 



406 FRANCIS BACON 

12. Bull's head. The original is seven inches high. Ars 

Moriendi. 

13-20. Bulls' heads. No. 20 is seven inches long. Brit. Mus., 
318c. 1400. 

21, 22. Anchors. See Plate I. Brit. Mus., 318c. 

22-2G. Letters G, M, P, Y. See Sotheby's Principia Xylograph- 
ica, xi., leaf 8, chap. 25. In the '* Barclay " copy of the 
Apocalypse, the I H S are elaborately introduced in 
the style of the early English letters, and with crosses 
and flourishes. MSS. and the Apocalypse, Spenser 
copy. 1440, 1400. 

Plate III. 

1. Open hand. Archives Haarlem, British Museum, 318c. 

1432. 

2. Open hand. Letter written to the Archbishop of Bath. 

Archives Haarlem, British Museum, 318c. 1433. 
3-5. Open hand, with heart. Cotton MSS. Caligula E vii. 
205. 1573. 
G. Open hand, with 3. From Rome. Cotton MSS. Caligula 
E, vii. 205. 1521. 

7. Open hand, with cross. Chapman's Works, British 

Museum, C 34c 11. 1598. 

8. Hand, with key. Archives Haarlem. 1427-8. 

9. Hand, with bunch of grapes. 

10. Hand, with star. Hatton Finch MSS. Dateless. 
11, 12. Hand, with star. Cotton MSS. British Museum, Nero 
vi. 35. Dateless. 

13. Hand, with letter, signed A. Powlet. Cotton MSS. 

Caligula E vii. 205. 1577. 

14. Hand, horn or crescent and trefoil, and A B, in ped- 

igrees of the Bacon family. Harleian MSS. 1393, fol. 85. 

15. Hand, with crescent in palm. Shepherd's Garland — 

Drayton. British Museum, C 30e 21. 1593. 

16. Hand, with 3. No star. Undated document, foreign. 

Hatton Finch MSS. 1393. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 407 

17, 18. Bugle, Accouut book, Hague, and letter to the Bishop 
of Durham. British Museum, 318c. 1421. 

19. Bugle (in heart, trefoil). Paradise Lost; Andrew Mar- 

vel's Verses. 1668. 

20. Bugle in shield. Letter of Francis Allen, or Alleyne, 

to Anthony Bacon. Tennison MSS., Lambeth. 1592- 
1641. 

21. Bugle in mirror, hearts, trefoil, etc. Bacon's History of 

Henry VII. 

22. Bugle on shield, imperfect; and a bar on which is PAN. 

Quarles' Emblems. 1639. 

23. Another. Paradise Lost. 1668. 

24. Another. A Learned Discourse of Justification hy 

Faith — Richard Hooker, D. D. 1631. 

25. Bugle on shield made by olive wreath and crown, horns, 

trefoil. Observe the S S, and that the same shield is 
a pot in disguise. From Bacon's History Natural and 
Experimental, title page, and History of Life and 
Death, preface. 1658. 
26-30. Specimens of innumerable fleur-de-lis, some 2i inches 
high, scattered about in the above works and MSS. 

Plate IV. 

1. Horns of a bull. MSS. Frankfort. British Museum, 

318c. 1470. 

2. Horns of a bull. Burton's Anatomy of Melancholy; 

unique copy, presented by Burton to the Nation. 
British Museum, C 45c 30. 1621. 
3-5. Horns of a bull. Mohfere's Works. 1682. 

6. Horns of a bull, or cornucopeia, crown indistinct. 

Cotton, Nero vi. 132. 1632. Another in Shakespeare, 
1632, and Cotton, Nero vi. 48. 

7. Horns of a bull. Cotton, Nero vi. 368. 

8. Horn in shield, etc. Bullock pedigree. Harl. 1393, 

fol. 96. 
10-12. Fool's cap and fragments. Quarles' Emblems. Dyce 
& Forster Library, S. Kensington Museum. 1676. 



408 FEANCIS BACON 

13. Fool's cap. Bagford collection, foL 29. 

14. Moor's head, with bandage pushed up from the eyes. 

(An allusion to the efforts being made to convert the 
Mahommedans ? ) Circa 1420. 

15. Twisted horns. 

16. Twisted horns. Advancement of Learning. 1605. 

17. Triangle, hearts. Harl. MSS., 1393, 88. 

18. Shield. Account book, Zuid, Holland. British Museum, 

318c. 1469-1470.. 

19. Shield. Document, Frankfort on the Main. British 

Museum, 318c. 1470. 
20, 21. Shield, other specimens. Dutch. 1460. 
22, 23. Shields. Apocalypse, Haarlem. Early 15th century. 
24. Shield, heart-shaped. Letter, H. Maynard to Anthony 

Bacon. Tennison MSS., Lambeth. 1592. 
25,26. Shield, heart-shaped. Poems of Michael Drayton. 1619. 

27. Shield, heart-shaped. Letters of Sir Francis Bacon. 

Copies. Hatton Finch Collection. 

28. Shield, heart-shaped. North's Plutarke. 1595. 

29. Shield. Letter from Theodore Beza to Anthony Bacon. 

Tennison MSS., Lambeth. 1593. 

30. Shield, heart-shaped. Letter unsigned. Cotton MSS. 

Nero, 229. 1590. 
31,34. Shield, heart-shaped, with R C. Advancement of 
Learning. 1640. 

32. Shield, heart-shaped. Document. Cotton, Nero vi. 180. 

33. Shield, heart-shaped. De Augmentis. Holland. 1652. 

Plate V. 

1. Shield, with Greek omega, and eight rays within. Cot- 

ton MSS. Nero vi. 62. Dateless. 

2. Shield, with B, and the name NICOLAS. Cotton MSS. 

372. Dateless. 

3. Shield, with C R. Advancement of Learning. 1640. 

4. Shield, with B (almost like No. 2). Harl. MSS. 1393, 

fol. 118. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 409 

b, 6. Shield (note horns and eye). From the Comedy of 
Errors, Shakespeare. 1632. 

7. Shield (note bull face). Shakespeare. 1632. 

8. Shield (note bull face). The Works of Joseph Mede. 

1677. 

9. Shield (note bull face). Modern mark, in L. Van Gel- 

der's paper. 1890. 

10. Mock shield, lions. George Herbert— r/«e Temple. 

1633. 

11. History of Life and Death. 1638. 

12. Advancement of Learning. 1640. 

14. Fleur-de-lis. Cor totowMS— Shakespeare. 1632. 

15. Fleur-de-lis and crown. Apocalypse, Haarlem. Early 

fifteenth century. Large oval shields, lions, harp, 
fleur-de-lis, Harl. Bagford's Collection, 5892, fol. 5 ; 
other patterns, fols. 80, 96, 105, 122; others, with lions 
rampant, one five inches high, Bagford, 5896, 6. 
17, 18. Bar. IRC. Cynthia's Bevels— Ben Jouson. (Per- 
haps Jonsou Rosy Cross?) 

Plate VI. 
1. Shield, chains, cabahstic marks. Works of J. Mede. 

1652. 
•2. Shield, chains. The Bule of Conscience— Jeremy Taylor. 

1671. 
3. Shield, chains. Theophrastus Paracelsus — Opera Om- 
nia. Geneva. 1658. 

Shield, chains and cross. Companion to the Temple — J. 
Comber, D. D. 1684. 
4-9. Mock shield and fleur-de-lis. " Diodati" Bible and 
Commentary. 1648. 

10. Bar. Shakespearefolio—C?/m&eZme, last page. CIRC. 

(Jonson Rosy Cross? ) 1623. 

11. Bar. Ben Jonson's Works— title-page and catalogue. 

1640. (Anthony? This bar surmounted by large 
bunch of grapes.) 



410 FRANCIS BACON 

12, 13. Fleur-de-lis and pearls. Vestal Virgin (epil.) — Sir R. 

Howard. Circa 1450-1600. 
14, 15. Spires rising from bulls' heads. Foreign paper. 
16. Fleur-de-lis. Shakespeare — Cijmheline. 3632. 
17, 18. Fleur-de-lis. The Merchant's Book of Commerce ~T!\xoq. 
Home Cornhill. 1700. 

Plate VII. 
1-4. Crowns. Shakespeare, Works. Brit. Mus. copy. 1623. 
5-9. Crowns. Shakespeare, Works. Kensing. Mus. Forster 
copy. 1623. 

10. Crowns. Philomathes — Pleasure with Profit. 1S94. 

11. Crowns. Harl. Bagford Collection, 5892, 1. 

12. Crowns, with rose in pentagon. Hatton Finch MSS. 304. 

13. Crowns, diamond. MS. Quintilian. Brit. Mus. 

4829 \Y. 

14. Crowns. Themata Varia. Hatton Finch MSS. 304. 

15. Crowns. MS. 

16, 18. Crowns. Sir Walter Raleigh's History of the World. 
Several patterns. 1614. 

19. Crowns. North's Plutarke. Brit. Mus. 10,605, i. 2. 

1603. 

20. Truth seated in triple ellipse, five pearls, diamond, tre- 

foil, water, cross, crown. Joynsou's foolscap paper. 
1890. Another, one-tenth of an inch smaller, details 
different, Toogood's paper. Another in fly-leaf to 
book has Time as an old man instead of Truth. 

Plate VIII. 

1. Tower. Nuremberg Chronicle. Jo. Ames' collection, 

Bodleian library. 

2. Castle-like candlesticks. A. Powlett — French docu- 

ment. Cotton MSS. 73, 92. 
3, 4. Pillars or candlesticks, drawn in Fenn's collection, 
pp. 8, 21. 
5. Double candlesticks, with grapes, etc. Note the B. 
Douai Testament. 1600. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 411 

6. Single candlesticks. Observations on Ccesafs Com- 

mentaries — Clement Edmundes. 1609. 

7. Double candlestick in Visitation of Wiltshire. Pedi- 

grees signed by Wra. Camden (Clarenciens). Harl. 
MSS. 1111. This water-mark follows for five pages 
the Bacon pedigree, beginning at fol. 38. Again they 
occur ten times in a pedigree of the Penryddokes. 
The widow of John Penryddoke married John Cooke, 
kinsman of Lady Anne Bacon. 

8. Double candlesticks. Lectures on St. John, " preached " 

by Arthur Hilderson. 1628. 

9. Double candlesticks. Quarles' Feast for Wormes. 1631 

10. Double candlesticks. Marlowe's Jeio of Malta. British 

Museum, 614c 70. 1633. 

11. Double candlestick. Milton's Comus. (Several pat- 

terns.) 1631. 

12-12e. Double candlesticks. Qnavles' Emblems. (Sixteen pat- 
terns.) 1635—1634. 

13, 13a. Double candlesticks. A Review of the Councell of Trent 
— Anon. (Five patterns.) 1638. 

14, 14a. Double candlesticks. De Aug mentis. 1638. 

Plate IX. 

15. Double candlesticks. Histor^j of Life and Death. 1638. 

16. Double candlesticks. Advancement of Learning. 1640. 
17, 17a. Double candlesticks. Ben Jonson's Poetaster. 1640. 

18, 19. Double candlesticks. History of Henry VII. 1641. 

20. Double candlesticks. Sir Kenelm Digby's Treatises. 

21. The Art of Making Devises, etc.— Anon. Various. 
Very large and elaborate in edition 1650. S. Ken. 
Forster, 87c. 1646. 

22. Double candlesticks. Fuller's History of the Holy 

Warre, 3d edition, Cambridge. 1647. 

23. Double candlesticks. Undescribed and dateless. Bod- 

leian collection, 25, 837d i. 



412 FRANCIS BACON 

Plate X. 

21,25. Double candlesticks. SirKenelmDigby O/'ilfaw's /SomL 
1669. 

26, 27. Double candlesticks. Sir Kenelm Digby Of Bodies. 
1669. 

28, 29. Double candlesticks. De Augmentis. 1674. Others 
like these and the above, but with variations, in Clark's 
Examples, 1656. 
30. Double candlesticks. Undescribed and dateless. Bod- 
leian collection. 

Plate XI. 

1-3. The vine and grapes. Dutch MSS. British Museum 
collection, 318c, vol. v. 1431-1445. 

4. Grapes, diamond. Letter from the Ambassador of 

Venice. Cotton MSS. 1600. 

5. Grapes, diamond. Letter, Spanish, signed "Alonso." 

Cotton MSS. 1603. 

6. Grapes, diamond. Letter, Seville. Cotton MSS. 1603. 

7. Grapes, diamond, C R I (or reversed?). Livorno. 

Cotton MSS. 1603. 

8. Grapes, diamond, B R. Heraldic and Historical Col- 

lection. Lansdowne, 205, fol. 248. 
9-10. Grapes, diamond. These and a great variety of others. 
Lansdowne, 187, 205, 230, etc. 

11. Grapes. Biblia Pauperum. 

12. Grapes. Bible. 1588. 

13-22. Grapes. (Some fragments.) Advancement of Learn- 
ing. 1605. 
23. Grapes. Bible. 1609. 
24-29. Grapes. Book of Common Prayer. 1609. 

Plate XII. 
30-34. Book of Common Prayer. Continued from Plate XI. 

1609. 
35-39. Bible. 1610. 
40-42. Florio's Italian-English Dictionary. 1611. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 413 

43. Marlowe's Hero and Leander. Letters M C (for C M?). 
1613. 
44, 45. Sklero Thriambos. 1618. 
46-48. (With bars.) Shakespeare folio. 1623. 

49. D'Aubigue's History of the Reformation. 1626. 
50, 51. (With bars.) Shakespeare. 1632. 

52. Quarles' ^w&Zems. 1635-1634. 

Plate XIII. 

53. Bar in Shakespeare. 1632. 

54. Be Sapientia Veterum. (Five rays and pearls as crown.) 

1638. 

55. Revieiv of the Councell of Trent— Anon. 1638. 
56-58. Quarles' Emblems. 1639. 

59-62. Ben Jonson's Works. 1640. 

63. History of the Councell of Trew^ — translated Sir N. 
Brent. (Fes/ca PJscJS and sacred monogram.) 1640. 
G4. Collection of pamphlets, including the Religio Medici — 
Sir Tbos. Browne. 1642. 
Almost the same in Twenty-seven Songs of Sion — Christ- 
mas Carols — W. S. 

65. Perspective Curicuse — P6re Niceron — Paris. 1652. 

66. A Priest of the Temple — George Herbert. 1652. 

67. Chronicle of the Kings of England — ^\r Sam'l Bake. 

1660. 
68, 69. Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia. (See Plate XIV.) 1662. 
70. Life and Death of Thomas Cromwell. (Supposed " spur- 
ious " play of Shakespeare.) 1664. 
71,74:. Ecclesia Restaurata. 1641. 
72, 73. Philippe de Comines' History. 1665. 
75,75a. " Fulke's " Bible and Commentaries. 1633. 

Plate XIV. 

76. De Augmentis. 1638. 

77, 78. Sylva Sylvarum. (See Plate XII.) 1638. 

79-82. Sir Philip Sidney's Arcadia. 1662. 

83-89. La Perspective Curieuse -Kxceron. 1663. 



414 FEA NCIS BA CON 

^0, 91. Paradise Lost. 1G68. 

92. Paradise Regained. 1668. 

93. The Works of Abraham Cowley. 1669. 

94. The New Atlantis. 1669. 
95-97. Moli^re's Plays. 1682. 

Plate XV. 

1. Pot, like chalice. FrombookprintedbyCaxton, before 

Sotheby. 1491. 

2. Pot. From MS. British Museum, vi. 318c. 1497. 

3. Pot. Letter (or copy) from W. Latimer to M. W. Pace. 

Hatton Finch, 29,549. 1530. 

4. Pot. Letter, French, unsigned. Cotton MSS. Nero vi. 

1596. 
5, 6. Pot. Letter, copies of English. Cotton MSS. Nero vi. 
1596. 

7. Pot. Letter, signed Walsinghum. Cotton MSS. Nero 

vi. 1577. 

8. Pot. Letter, Walsingham to Leycester. Cotton MSS. 

Nero vi. 1577. 

9. Pot. Letter, Nathaniel Bacon to the Lord Chancellor. 

Tennison MSS. 1579. 
10. Pot. Letter, H. Maynard to Anthony Bacon. Tenni- 
son MSS. 1580. 
11, 12. Pot. Letter, H. Maynard to Anthony Bacon, copies. 
Tennison MSS. 1580. 

13. Pot. Letter, Francis Bacon to W. Doylie. Tennison 

MSS. 1580. 

14. Pot. Letter, Sir Amyas Powlett to A. Bacon. Cotton 

MSS. 1580. 
15, 10. Pot. Letter, Walsingham to A. Bacon. Cotton MSS. 
1587. 

17. Pot. Advertisement from Paris. Cotton MSS. 1587. 

18. Pot. Ten Sets of Emblems in Verse — Anon. (The 

verses are like Quarles'.) Tennison MSS. 1587. 

19. Pot. Mrs. Anne Bacon to ber brother Anthony. Ten- 

nison MSS. 1591. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 415 

Another pot, exactly siaiikir, Richard Barker to An- f 
thony Bacon. Tennison MSS. 1591. 

20. Pot. Lady Anne Bacon to her son Anthony. Tennison 

MSS. 1592. 

21. Pot. Henry Mayiiard to Anthony Bacon. Tennison 

MSS. 1592. 

22. Pot. M. Colman to yinthouy Bacon. Tennison MSS. 

1592. 

23. Pot. Alexander Bence to Anthony Bacon. Tennison 

MSS. 1592. 

Plate XVI. 

1. Letter by Sheryngton to Archbishop Whitgift. Tenni- 
son MSS., Lambeth. 1593. 

Another, but without rays, Alexander Bence to Anthony 
Bacon. Tennison MSS., Lambeth. 1592. 
2, 3. Miscellaneous pedigrees — some of the Bacon family. 
(Several patterns.) Harleian MSS. 1393, fols. 31, 42, 
46, etc. 

4. Letter, unsigned — Of the debt of the Low Countries. 

Various. Hatton Finch MSS. 338. 1590. 

5. Letter unsigned, undated. 

6. Letters from Henry Cobham. One speaks of Daubigne 

being sent into Scotland. Another has the letters A B. 
The same in letters from Sir Amyas Powlett. Cotton 
MSS. Calig. E. 108, 159-161, 203, 210. 1581. 

7. Estratto da Avisi da Constantinopoli. Cotton MSS. 

Nero vi. 19. After 1603. 
9. Letters, dateless, unsigned. Speak of Cardinal Alo- 

brandini. Cotton MSS. Nero vi. 17. 
10. Letters, intercepted, to Signer Valete " al Conte." 
Signed Andrea Van Nellecouen. Cotton MSS. Nero 
vi. 23. 
11, 12, 15, 17. Letters unsigned, undated. Cotton MSS. 235, 
267, 314, 393-437. 
14, Pedigrees connected with the Bacon family. Harl. 
1393, 108. 



416 FBANCIS BACON 

16. Note : This is the only example of a two-handled pot 
in the British Museum collection. It is there called 
"Vase, from MS. Quintilian." The latter is not in 
the museum. (The sheet on which this *' vase " is 
found is amongst a collection of foreign papers, 1881.) 
Dateless. 

Plate XVII. 

1. From the Works of Thos. Becon, vol. i, or Thos. Beacon, 

vol. ii. 1560. (Note this mark and spelling of the 
name, with regard to the last pot in our collection.) 

2. Francis Bacon's Apologie. 1604. 
2-5a. Advancement of Learning. 1605. 
6-14. Translation of Gertaine Psalms. 1625. 

10. War tvith Spain. 1629. 

15. Hist. Vitis et Mortis. 1637. 

16-18. Sapientia Veterum. 1638. 

19-23. Hist. Life and Death (and next sheet). 1638. 

Plate XVIII. 

1-3. Hist. Life and Death. 1638. 

4. Hist. Experimentalis et Naturalis, De Ventis, etc., 

1638, and others in edition of 1650. 
5,6. History of Henry VIL 1638. 
7-14. De Augment is. 1638. 

Plate XIX. 

1-4, Advancement of Learning. 1640. 

5. De Augmentis. 1645. 

6. Bacon's Bemaines. Baconiana (one of three varieties). 

1648. 

7. New Atlantis and Sylva Sylvarum. 1650. In the New 

Atlantis, 1669, there are five patterns. 
8-10. Sylva Sylvarum. 1651. 

Nearly the same as No. 10 in XXVIII Sermons by 
Jeremy Taylor. 1654. 
11-12. Sylva Sylvarum. 1658. 



AND HIS SECHET SOCIETY. 417 

Platk XX. 

13. Sylva Sylvarum. 1658. 

14. History of Life and Death. 1658. 

15. Undescribed, in the Bodleian Collection. 1662. 
16-18. New Atlantis. 1669. 

It), 20. A dvancement of Learninr/. 1 674. 

Plate XX I. 
1 . North's Plutarke. Last fly leaf; otherwise foreign pa- 
per. 1579. 
2, 2a. A Handful of Gladsome Verses Given to the Queen's 
Maiestie. 1592. 
3 to .3//. Spenser's Faerie Queene. S. Ken. Mus., Forster and 
Dyer Library. 1596. Note the A B. F B, A F, R C, 
etc., and a date (1586 reversed?). 
4,5. Romev^ B Hiades — Chapman. 1598. 
6, m. A Pithie Exhortation. 1598. 

Plate XXTI. 

1-8. Montaigne's Essays. 1603. 
9. ^oxth'& Plutarke. 1603. 
10, 11. The Examination, etc., of George Sprot. 1609. 
12-15. Observations on Co'safs Commentaries — Clement Ed- 

mundes. 1609. 
16-22. Florio's Italian-English Dictionary. 1611. 

23, 24. London Triumphing— -T. Middleton. 1612. 
• 

Plate XXIIT. 

1-3. Drayton's Pohjalbion. 1613. 
4, 5. Civitalis Amor. 1613. 

6,7. Marlowe's Hero and Leander. Brit. Mus. 1076h 6. 
1613. 
8. Another pot with I I. 
9-21. Ben Jonson's Works. 1616. 
22 a, c &cd. Stowe's Survey of London. 1618. 
22 b. The World Lost at Tennis. 
2^-26. Selden's History of Tithes. 1618. See next plate. 

27 



418 FBANCIS BACON 

Plate XXIV. 

1-H. Seidell's Hismy of Tithes. See Plate XXIII. 1618. 

12. Triumphs of Love and Antiquity — Uiddleton. 1619. 

13. The World Lost at rew/zis — Middleton. 1619. 
14, 14a. Chapman's Byron's Compirarie. 162r). 

15. 

16. 
17-17C. Love's Laboufs Lost (quarto). 1631. 

Space does not admit of a collection found in C. Marlowe's 
Troublesome Eeigne of King Edivard II., 1622 (Brit. Mus. 82c 
22); Dr. Faustus, pot, hand and rose; Jew of Malta, pot with 
V D; others with crescent and crown. Also in Edward II., 
1598, other patterns with hand and star. Also in Hero and 
Leander, 1629 and 1637; The Eich Jew of Malta, 1633; The 
Queen's Wake, 1610; Tlie Order of the Solemnitie of the Creation 
of Prince Henrie, 1610; Tam Robiir in Colis Arbor Jovis, 1610 ; 
and other plays, masques, etc., of " the Elizabethan and Jaco- 
bean" dramatists, some anonymous. 

Plate XXY. 

L Euphues' Anatomie of Wit — J. Lilie. 1631. Almost 
the same in Euphues' History of England. (British 
Museum, 12, 410cci.) 
2-9. Hooker's Ecclesiastical Polity. 1632. 

10. Milton's Comus. A masque presented at Ludlow 

Castle. 1634. 

11. Quarles' Emblems. 1639. No second half visible; 

other patterns in the edition of 1645, and a pot with 
I P in History of Samson, 1631 . 

12. Sir Kenelm Digby, Observations on the 22nd Stanza, (&c. 

of the Faerie Qupene. (British Museum, ll,805aab, 
p. 17.) 

13. Fuller's Church History. 1648. 

14. " Diodati " Testament and Commentary. Annotations 

to the Book of the Bevelations. 1648. 



AND HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 419 

Plate XXVI. 
1-G, The Alcoran, of 3Iahomet— Anon. Six bold patterns. 
1619. 
7. New Testament. 1650. 
8-10. Daniel's Collection of the History of England. 1650. 
11, 12. Scourge for the Assyrian — Anon. Tract. 1652. 

13. Designefor Plentie. Tract. 1652. 
14, 14a. George Herbert's Priest to the Temple (and some non- 
descripts). 1652. 
15. Clark's Examples. 1657. Some similar in XXVIII. 
Sermons — Jeremy Taylor. 

Plate XXVII. 

1. :Z7te; IFa^/o/JB/iss— Elias Ashmole. 1658. 

2. TheDoctrineof Original Sin — Aahmo\e. 1658. 

3. From Paper and Paper Making— BichnYd Herring, 3d 

edition. 1863. This is reprinted from Ure's Diction- 
ary of Arts and Manufactures, " with illustrations 
and Additions. " As is "usual in all books professing 
to publish any account of these matters, the illustra- 
tion is without any date or description as to its mean- 
ing, or the book from which it was taken. 

4. Sir Robert Howard's Four New Plaps. 1664. 

5. Shakespeare. 1664. 

G. Sir Kenelm Digby's Powder of Sympathy. 1669. One 
of several patterns. This book is an allegory or 
Ijarable of the " Rosicrucian " sort. 

7. Sir Kenelm Digby's Treatise of Bodies. 1669. Several 

patterns. 

8. Sir Kenelm Digby's Treatise of Souls. 1669. Several 

patterns. 

9. Traced on a piece in the collection of English paper- 

marks at the Bodleian Library. On the paper is 
written: "Geneva Bible, 1561." But the Geneva 
Bible of that date {which is the date of Francis Bacon's 
birth) has not this paper-mark, and a pot of this size 



420 FEANCIS BACON 

(nearly 5 inches) is not found till nearly one hundred 
years later. The figures reversed — 1651 — would he 
about the date. 

10. On the same sheet as No. 9. Here the pot is not traced, 

but on the paper is written in the same hand of a 
well-known Professor: " From Bacon's Works," with 
the date added, 1563-4. In the works of " Thomas 
Becou, " vol. i., or "Thomas Beacon, "vol. ii., there 
is no pot like this. See ante. 

11. CR. From Sir Kenelrn Digby's Of the Soul. 1669. 
12, 13. Cowley's Works. 1669, 



Had space permitted, it was the intention to add extra and 
nondescript designs to prove that it was by intention and selec- 
tion that the marks specially classed as " Baconian" were intro- 
duced into a certain very comprehensive circle of books of the 
sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. The curious and industri- 
ous reader should satisfy himself on this point by studying the 
" extras" in these or other books of the period. He will find 
shields, chains, fleur-de-lis, roses, bell-flowers, cardinals' hats, 
shrines, lambs and flags, lions. Mercury's rods, spread eagles, 
double-headed eagles, etc., with a quantity of distinct but non- 
descript figures, and many of the old foreign marks, varied or 
modified. 

It must be borne in mind that the present collection consists 
only of selections made from the limited number of books from 
which we have been able to draw. Unfortunately, many other 
books related to the subject had been examined with a view to 
other particulars before we had grasped the importance of the 
paper-marks as first links in the chain. 

All the editions of books of the sixteenth and seventeenth cen- 
turies should be searched; the most elementary educational 
books, as well as the sermons " preached;" masques and plays 
"produced;" songs and hymns " written, " "penned," "pre- 
sented," "set to music;" theological, scientific and historical 
works "collected," "augmented," "revised;" classical and 



ANU HIS SECRET SOCIETY. 421 

foreign works " trauslated out of the Latin, " or " lirst iiriutcd in 
the English tongue." 

Where the hieroglyphic pictures, next to be described, are 
conspicuous and abundant, the water-marks seem to have beeu 
less regarded. Yet this is not an invariable rule. On the other 
hand, where the name of the supposed author on the title-page, 
or the signature of the dedication, is printed in mixed types dif- 
fering from the rest of the printing, we are seldom disappointed 
in our search after water-marks, unless the book was published 
abroad, or the paper made from wood and not from cotton fibre. 



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